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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24806161">Attached</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anika_Ann/pseuds/Anika_Ann'>Anika_Ann</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Not Specified, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Cock Warming, Every now and then, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, How Do I Tag, I can't believe I'm using these tags, It Doesn't Happen But It Kinda Happens, Light Dom/sub, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, POV Alternating, Potential Age Gap, Rating Changed, Reader-Insert, Sex, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Well almost everyone, You'll understand soon enough, additional chapters, everyone ships it, holiday theme in on of them, idiots to lovers, imaginary smut, oneshots added</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:22:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>93,186</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24806161</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anika_Ann/pseuds/Anika_Ann</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You messed up. Your very sleep-deprived Self attached the wrong document when emailing a professor and sent him one of the stories you wrote instead of an assignment. It should be embarrassing, really, but it wasn’t. It was worse.</p><p>Why did it have to be the smutty one? Why did it have to be the one starring his best friend, Professor Rogers? You were so screwed.</p><p>  <i>Aka the ‘you sent the wrong attachment to hot professor A that just happens to be about his friend hot professor B and now professor A is unable to look at professor B without wheezing in laughter anymore and you are unable to look at either of them’ AU</i></p><p>EDIT II: Really, this turned into a series with additions of (one)shots :)) ... So every time I start adding a related story somewhere in the timeline, the number of chapters will change, otherwise you can consider the story finished. Please, read the notes/summaries/warnings. Thank you.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>273</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>707</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Words of Doom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Collection: 'Tumblr Is a Terrible Influence on Me'</p><p>Warnings: lots of swearing, literally one mention of a possible daddy kink, double entendre</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Your eyes felt like on fire, burning hotter than the sun above Sahara Desert; the metaphor your sleep-deprived mind came up with was only perfected by the huge dunes of the bags under your eyes.</p><p>You were running on disgustingly strong coffee and three energy drinks, but you summoned the rest of your strength and clicked on ‘send’, slumping so heavily into your chair that when your back hit the backrest, it almost toppled over—but never mind, you made it!</p><p>Penny, your gracious roommate, would inform you that had you started earlier and were writing the actual essay instead of wasting words on steamy stories that somehow filled the desired wordcount with considerably less effort, you wouldn’t have been turning into a zombie sending assignments several minutes before eight a.m., the actual deadline.</p><p><em>Yeah, well, sue me, I prefer </em>romance<em> to the World War II., no matter how important history is.</em></p><p>You were certain Professor Barnes would understand if you told him that anyway – he was a pretty easy-going guy for a scholar after all. Then again, you sure as hell didn’t want to test the theory out and so you tended to hand in your homework perhaps ‘minute to midnight’, but still in time.</p><p>You grinned as you checked the sent e-mail, proudly reading it had been sent at 7:56. You mentally patted your back, not having the energy to actually move to do that.</p><p>And then your Sahara-dry eyeballs fell lower on the screen and you let out a shriek of horror.</p><p>Your heart stopped in your chest before kicking in faster than it had been pumping after three Red Bulls.</p><p>The attachment.</p><p>Oh no.</p><p>OH FUCK, the attachment!</p><p>Now, it happened on occasion that people forgot to attach the files they spoke of in an e-mail, right? Sometimes shit like that happened.</p><p>But this… this was so, <em>so much worse.</em></p><p>“Oh no,” you uttered under your breath, shooting up and suddenly sitting with back straight as a ruler just to look at the screen from shorter distance to-- nope, still there. <em>“Oh fuck.”</em></p><p>You quickly scrambled to send another e-mail with similar text but the right file, along with a swift apology.</p><p>
  <em>Sent 7:59.</em>
</p><p>You should be relieved. Perhaps Professor Barnes would notice the correct one first and automatically deleted the one that obviously must have been wrong.</p><p>So why couldn’t you find it in you to think you would have such luck?</p><p>At least if he opened the wrong document, he would understand <em>very quickly</em> that it was not what he had asked the students to do and would delete it before diving in fully, right?</p><p>But a worm of doubt – or intuition, whatever you wanted to call it – told you that it wouldn’t be the case.</p><p>You covered your mouth with your palms and screamed at the top of your lungs.</p><p>Penny, sleep-deprived considerably less than you because she was an actual responsible human being, walked from her room to the bathroom and blatantly ignored you, probably thinking you had missed the deadline by a minute and were now freaking out.</p><p>Oh, <em>you wished.</em></p><p>“Pennyyyyyyyyy!” you cried out in a whiny tone, but she clicked the door shut as if nothing was happening. As if your whole life wasn’t in shambles because of one single e-mail. “Penelope, you get your ass back here! I need to know how to switch schools without having to repeat a year!”</p><p>Her wild black curls peeked from the bathroom, followed by an annoyed sleep-raspy voice. “Why? You accidently called Barnes a daddy in your message or somethin’?”</p><p>Your heart was still beating its way out of your chest, a low ominous hum in your ears. Gods above, <em>you wished.</em> Still would be easier to explain, like… you could claim it was a dare or something.</p><p>No, this was much, <em>much worse.</em></p><p>Penny, apparently taken aback by the lack of your response, left the safety of the bathroom and approached your lair (probably stinking of sugary drinks and caffeine) and peeked over your shoulder, searching an explanation for your antics.</p><p>You only gulped, moved the cursor to the title of the document you had sent in your first e-mail and closed your eyes, actually feeling tears of humiliation stinging in them.</p><p>The silence that followed spoke volumes until-</p><p>“OH SHIT.”</p><p>You had just shared your smutty one-shot with your history professor, but that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was that it was starring his rumoured one and only best friend he shared an office with. One who had acted like a substitute for two weeks when Professor Barnes got a particularly bad case of cold, but wouldn’t leave you without a lecture. Needless to say, Professor Rogers had also starred several of your steamy dreams after that and became a source of inspiration for your occasional writing streaks.</p><p>And now your history professor could read all about it and, god forbid, <em>share it </em>with the man who was the template of the main character of the story. You weren’t dumb; you alternated the names, just in case of you didn’t even know what (and it might have made you feel better about writing filthy stuff about a prof), but you went with the same looks including hair and skin colour, hairstyle, Rogers’ glorious beard and you certainly didn’t omit his surprisingly ripped body.</p><p>So, yeah. Penny’s <em>‘OH SHIT’</em> was pretty accurate.</p><p>You were so screwed.</p><p>Yes, once again, <em>you wished.</em></p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>You had handed in your work on Friday morning and had been jittery all weekend, practically unable to focus on any of the studying you desperately needed to do. Normally, you might write some comforting piece to relieve your frustration, but that was <em>not</em> an option right now as simply opening a text editor gave you palpitations.</p><p>The all-nighter you had pulled didn’t exactly help your already non-existent ability to get your head on straight either.</p><p>You were looking forward to Monday and dreaded it at the same time – Professor Barnes was to give your assignments back with a mark and commentary. You were <em>praying</em> for Monday to come already, because you just <em>needed</em> to know the consequences of your actions. You were <em>freaking</em> <em>out</em> about Monday for very obvious reasons.</p><p>You had no idea what was happening in your first Monday class. Your lunch consisted of half bottle of coke.</p><p>And now here you were, seated in the second row of three, because that seemed like the safest place, a seat where Barnes couldn’t approach you from any angle.</p><p>When he entered the class, you decided to stubbornly watch the desk in front of you. Under any circumstances, you would <em>not</em> make eye-contact, wouldn’t raise your gaze. There was no fucking way anything would force you look his in the eye.</p><p>Or you thought so.</p><p>You hadn’t realized he would call out each of your names and would say the necessary commentary about doing well, missing something, excellent work, this one feeling a bit sloppy… out loud, which would made it truly impolite to keep staring ahead. With each work sent through the sea of people to hand it to those in the second row, your stomach was turning heavier, your heart beating faster.</p><p>And then Professor Barnes said your name and you winced in your seat, squeezing your eyes shut on instinct, the childish <em>if I can’t see you, you can’t see me either </em>kicking in<em>. </em></p><p>He called out your name again as if there was a chance you missed it the first time and with a huge lump of panic in your throat, you blinked your eyes open and raised your gaze, only to meet his neutral face with just the tinniest twitch to the corners of his lips and a barely visible twinkle to his eye.</p><p>Your stomach dropped to the floor, your face burning with embarrassment and humiliation.</p><p>He held out the papers to the person in the first row in front of you, whose name you didn’t care for at the moment, and nodded his head.</p><p>“Not bad at all,” he said and that was the end of it.</p><p>Your essay landed in front of you and you finally breathed in properly, your hand trembling slightly as you noticed the circled B+ in the corner.</p><p>You were deaf to his next words, your heart jumping as you read the note by the mark.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>B for the cliché used, + for the originality.</em> </strong>
</p><p>Huh. What a strange way to word an evaluation… but hey, you wouldn’t complain. For one, no one had filled a harassment complaint for your stupid ass so far <em>and</em> you had written this shit during an all-nighter and still got B+. This was the best outcome you could hope for; Barnes didn’t even give you shit about your... <em>error.</em></p><p>A smile slowly found a way to your lips, a shy little thing, but definitely present, your mimic muscles, so stiff from trying to keep a poker face, relaxing.</p><p>You browsed over the other notes in red ink scattered over the pages, some sentences and phrases unlined and commented on, sometimes corrected, sometimes complimented to.</p><p>It wasn’t until you reached the red note that had one word from it actually crossed out and replaced.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Really hits the <strike>spot</strike> mark.</em> </strong>
</p><p>Your smile froze on your lips, your heart ceased to beat before kicking in with furious pace, loud pounding humming in your temples.</p><p>Oh god. <em>Oh no.</em></p><p>Hitting a <em>spot? </em>He could have written it was ‘spot on’ or that it ‘hit the mark’… he made the mistake deliberately, you were certain of it – all of his other notes were so neat and thought through-</p><p>You checked the individual notes, your stomach twisting when you re-read them in a new light.</p><p>Nearly all the wording he used was referencing to your… <em>special </em>assignment you had handed in.</p><p><em>Oh god, please, let the lightning hit me. Let the floor swallow me. Let the cardiac arrest momentarily trying to kill me </em>actually<em> kill me.</em></p><p><strong><em>Interesting work for certain </em></strong>with a <strong><em>winky face</em></strong>?! Really? That would be innocent enough on its own, but it was feeling like a conspiratorial wink. The <em>I know more than I let on and you know what I’m talking about </em>wink<em>.</em></p><p>The next one was a blatant double-entendre and you could bang your head against your desk for not realizing it first time reading it. <strong><em>Good writing, nice flow, clearly heading to the climax.</em></strong></p><p>Your face was set aflame once more and despite your better judgement, you glanced at the professor momentarily showing <em>whatever</em> in his presentation.</p><p>He caught your gaze and had the audacity to wink.</p><p>You snapped your head away and silently whined, sliding down your chair nearly enough to lie on the floor.</p><p>
  <em>OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD.</em>
</p><p><em>Why</em> did it have to be the smutty one you sent? <em>Why</em> couldn’t it be a cute one at least? You had loads of those! <em>Why</em> did it have to be the one about Steven damn Rogers, his friend?</p><p>
  <em>Why, just WHY?!</em>
</p><p>Professor Barnes had definitely read it. And for some reason, you had a hunch that he had showed it to his friend slash colleague he shared an office with too.</p><p>You whined some more and pretended that this day was the apocalypse and that you would never have to face either of the professors ever again.</p><p>Of course, you could <em>not</em> have such luck.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>There it is! Shorter chapter for starters. Just you wait ;)</p><p>Thank you for reading :))</p><p>If you want, come see me pretending to know what I'm doing on Tumblr (@anika-ann).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Trigger Words</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bucky’s driving Steve crazy by his strange behaviour and Steve doesn’t know who’s the mad one anymore, but his patience is tested.<br/><i>In which Bucky has a whole new set of trigger words and a whole different reaction to them.</i></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings: brief mention of an injury, brief mention of drug abuse (steroids), swearing, mention of porn, masturbation (male, brief)… and a slightly crack-ish humour I guess ...NSFW?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bucky was acting strange.</p><p>Now Steve was aware that James Buchannan Barnes was a personality extraordinaire and everyone had their quirks, but Steve liked to think that he and Bucky knew each other pretty well.</p><p>After all, they knew each other since they had been kids. They went through tough puberty that for Steve consisted of trying and failing to grow some muscle and experiment with steroids because of his desperate need to get bigger <em>somehow,</em> until he realized he really had to go through loads and loads of workout, healthy diet, responsibly take medication for his conditions and be patient; for Bucky, it involved almost losing an arm when he wanted to impress some girls and was jumping from one freight car to another, earning an electric current burn that the doctors called a miracle, because an encounter like that usually meant amputation or worse and not only few scars over a whole arm.</p><p>Bucky had been there for Steve when his high school sweetheart Peggy decided to move to London for studies right after Steve’s mom died and Steve had been there for Bucky when he came out to his parents about being bisexual. They suffered through college together, had enough luck to land a job at the same university because of a funds corruption scandal that had resulted in the half the history department being fired and now even shared an office.</p><p>They had been side by side for everything that came their way, best friends for life. They supported each other, talked shit one to another, witnessed each other’s awkward phases, broke noses to their mortal enemies, walked each other home when they had too much to drink, <em>everything.</em></p><p>Yet, Steve had never seen Bucky like this.</p><p>The history professor – an easy-going one, loved by students, yet still a well-respected professor – burst into fit of damn <em>giggles </em>whenever he met Steve’s eyes and his shoulders kept shaking for hours now; a least whenever Steve saw him.</p><p>It all escalated during the lunch break, both of them enjoying their food from college cafeteria in their office, because the actual cafeteria was a cacophony of voices and clinks of cutlery and generally just a hell on Earth for ears.</p><p>“Hey, Stevie, say are you into professor-student roleplay?” Bucky asked out of blue and Steve inhaled so swiftly that he nearly chocked on his chicken salad, coughing loudly to clear his airways.</p><p>He stared at Bucky with tears in his eyes, face no doubt red from both the fight for air and the question.</p><p>“What the <em>fuck, </em>Bucky! I’m eating!” he sputtered, coughing some more and then soothing his throat by taking a sip from the bottle of water on his desk. Amusement was written all over Bucky’s face as he watched Steve with a shit-eating grin. “You don’t just ask that shit! Less so when we’re in our office!”</p><p>At that, Bucky rolled his eyes and stabbed a piece of his beef, popping it to his mouth indulgingly. </p><p>“Steve, you gotta let that go. There are no bugs in our offices. Fury is a bit of a creeper but he’s no spy.”</p><p>It was Steve’s turn to roll his eyes. For one, Steve had solid ground for believing that President Fury was indeed obsessed with checking on his employees. For two, that was really not the point he was trying to make. But since Bucky brought it up...</p><p>“Sure. It’s not suspicious at all that Natalie Rushman was hired when the rumours started and left soon after Hammer was exposed for stealing Tony’s designs.”</p><p>Bucky chewed for a bit, thoughtful, and then grimaced. “…okay, good point. But still, relax, Grumpy.”</p><p>“Whatever you say,” Steve muttered, still convinced that Rushman was as fake as Fury’s eye. She had appeared out of nowhere in the middle of semester, disappeared before its end and on top of that, spoke Russian. Steve knew enough about Cold War not to trust a beautiful mysterious woman talking nuclear physics in Russian accent. “Not what I meant though. We work here. Really not the right place to-”</p><p>Bucky burst out laughing, throwing his head back and nearly toppling over his plate. There were actual tears of laughter forming in his eyes and Steve was simply… confused. Utterly clueless. What the hell was so funny?</p><p>“You’re such a punk…. But seriously, are you? Into it, I mean?” Bucky asked, lowering his voice conspiratorially.</p><p>“Bucky!”</p><p>Seriously, Steve could <em>not</em> believe this guy. Why was he friends with him again?!</p><p>“Just answer, Steve, it’s not like this is a quiz and you’ll lose a point for answering wrong.”</p><p>Steve sighed. Talking sexual stuff with Buck was-- he still wasn’t comfortable with that, no matter how ridiculously it sounded. Bucky was his best friend whom Steve trusted with his life, had a great open mind, judgement-free, only enhanced by the fact he played it both sides; he was a big fan of any kind of love, because <em>well, what can I say Stevie, it’s love, </em>and supported anyone letting their flag freak fly in the craziest ways. Steve honestly hadn’t met a more open-minded person in these matters, it was one of the things he loved about his best friend. And he was also perfectly fine with his friend liking both men and women, that wasn’t what made him tongue-tied.</p><p>Steve simply didn’t enjoy talking about this kind of things with anyone but his partners. At least not when he was stone cold sober. In <em>his office, </em>no less<em>, when technically still on clock.</em></p><p>“I… don’t think so?” he answered truthfully in the end, but not at all willing to give it a second thought in this environment. “Kinda loses the appeal when you <em>are</em> a professor? Why on Earth are you asking me that anyway?”</p><p>Bucky shrugged, a mischievous twinkle in his eye letting on that his indifference was very much pretend.</p><p>“Just curious. You’re taking things too seriously,” he hummed and snickered at some private joke.</p><p>Steve sighed and tried to let it go, blaming the upcoming finals and having loads of papers to grade for Bucky’s questionable mental state.</p><p>“Hey, did you seriously drop an F-bomb on me? In our <em>office? </em>What happened to your professionalism, Professor Rogers?” Bucky spoke up once more and Steve shot him a dirty glare, turning <em>murderous </em>when the brunet had the audacity to burst out laughing.</p><p>It was going to be a long end of semester.</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>Steve’s ominous prediction turned out to be true, his worst fears confirmed the very afternoon.</p><p>His inbox pinged with a new message from Tony and Steve felt a smile involuntarily creep up his face.</p><p>“What’s got you grinning like a goof, Rogers?” Bucky hummed from the couch where he was sitting cross-legged, hunched over essays, apparently hating each and every one of them if the angry way he had been scribbling notes was anything to go by.</p><p>Steve was happy to lift his spirits with the great news: their once womanizing colleague just became a family man and decided to announce it to the world, sending a picture too; a proud dad with a new-born in his arms. </p><p>“Pepper’s given a birth, finally,” Steve announced, not missing the spark in Bucky’s eye at the news. “A babygirl.”</p><p>The spark grew into a flame; Bucky simply watched Steve for few seconds, dazed, and then exploded, doubling over with laughter.</p><p>Steve’s heart jumped in his chest at the sudden loud noise, his brows furrowing at the wheezing sound coming out of Bucky’s mouth instead of normal breathing.</p><p>Was this some kind of a seizure? From… laughing? Should he do anything? Because Bucky sounded a lot like Steve without the asthma medication he had been previously dependent on and he finally understood why his friend had always been so concerned when Steve would claim he would just walk it off. The sound was hurting his ears.</p><p>“What-“</p><p>“Is. She. Pretty?” Bucky choked out between his outbursts and Steve’s mind filled with thousands more question marks. Still, he looked at the picture again, trying to figure out the answer.</p><p>How would he know? She was a baby. Could he even say that about a new-born? Adorable? For sure. Pretty? Eh…</p><p>“I guess? Yeah, she’s kinda cute,” Steve said in the end, reading the caption for himself.</p><p><strong><em>I present you Morgan Stark. So far so good. Let’s hope she’ll stay like this and won’t turn out a drama queen like me.</em></strong> Steve couldn’t but chuckle at such self-awareness; Pepper truly turned Tony into a different man. A better man<em>. </em></p><p>“Tony says that she’s been a good girl so far.”</p><p>Bucky clutched his abdomen and nearly hit his forehead on the table when he burst out laughing again.</p><p>What the hell was Steve missing?</p><p>He couldn’t say he wasn’t looking forward to the weekend to have some alone time as much as he loved Buck. Perhaps Bucky would settle over the two days as well.</p><p>He didn’t.</p><p>From that moment on, talking to Bucky appeared to be a real hazard. Every exchange started feeling like a trap for it was always followed with the brunet laughing so hard that Steve would be getting worried about his friend’s overworking his abs… if he hadn’t been growing irritated.</p><p>The anger was beginning to boil, because truly, almost everything Bucky said to Steve was accompanied by this strange glint in his eye, as if he couldn’t wait for Steve’s reaction.</p><p>And the worst thing about the whole ordeal was that Steve had no single clue <em>what</em> the joke was or <em>how </em>to avoid being laughed at.</p><p>Like when Bucky asked him to go out for lunch instead of buying a meal from cafeteria as usual; they tended to settle for slightly lower quality for their lunch, because it was one of the few chances to save money in New York.</p><p>“Come on, punk, just this once!” Bucky almost begged. “I need a big fat lunch to deal with all this stress.”</p><p>“Fine,” Steve sighed, taking mercy upon seeing the pleading eyes of his friend. <em>“Just this once,</em> I’ll make an exception.”</p><p>Steve ended up eating in the cafeteria, because he refused to follow the suddenly cackling Bucky. If he was going to be a jerk when Steve was doing him a favour, he could go alone and enjoy his stress eating wherever he wanted, with whoever he wanted.</p><p>God knew Steve was soon about to begin stress eating too if his best friend kept this up. Monday couldn’t be over fast enough.</p><p>Not bothering with an apology, Bucky entered their office, barely acknowledged by Steve as he was preparing a quiz, a final exam for one of his classes.</p><p>“Hey, don’t these old chairs bother you?” Bucky asked all of sudden, startling Steve from his focus.</p><p>“Huh? Buck, we got them about a year ago. They are perfectly comfortable,” he muttered back, trying to figure out how to form possible answers without them being too obviously wrong.</p><p>Bucky once again proceeded to laugh his ass off and Steve felt his vision turning red on its edges.</p><p>He closed his eyes, slowly breathed in and out and tried to remember every time Bucky had been a helpful and amazing friend instead of the dick he was being now. Maybe something was going on Steve had no idea about and his attitude was not helping Bucky to open up about it? It wouldn’t be the first time he had got caught up in his head, but usually Steve recognized the signs – and this was not it. Or was it?</p><p>Taking another calming breath, Steve returned to his work. He’d give it a day. And if Bucky wouldn’t get better <em>or</em> explained what the hell was going on with him, then Steve would corner him. He hummed to himself, satisfied with his decision, and even smiled when he added at least one ridiculous answer. He didn’t have to make every question hard now, did he?</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>As much as Steve hated himself for it, his resolve died in about an hour after making himself that promise.</p><p>Bucky had been shuffling through his papers for the past half an hour, furiously typing on the keyboard, drumming his fingers on the table, kept moving around and generally was making absolutely random noises and Steve’s brain… refused to cooperate, having decided to be hyperfocused on every little annoying thing Bucky did.</p><p>Steve could feel a headache building up for the past ten minutes, gritting his teeth and stubbornly keeping his mouth shut and remain patient.</p><p>And then Bucky started tapping his foot.</p><p>“Bucky!” Steve snapped at him finally, the movement of his foot instantly ceasing, confused grey eyes meeting Steve’s blue ones that just might be throwing daggers his direction.</p><p>“What?” he asked so innocently and baffled that Steve had to swallow the venom on his tongue and forced himself to calm down and speak gentler.</p><p>“Could you try to… stop messing around? It’s really distracting.”</p><p>Steve expected a ‘sorry’ or a ‘huh’, Bucky perhaps not being aware of his ticks, hell, he even expected an eyeroll, because god knew sometimes little things could drive Steve up the wall for no particular reason and Bucky wasn’t shy about calling him out.</p><p>He did not expect Bucky snorting and to start laughing, <em>yet again</em>.</p><p>And Steve had <em>just </em>enough.</p><p>“Okay, Buck, what the <em>fuck</em> is with you?!” he thundered, jolting to his feet and stalking towards the other man’s station. Bucky was still cackling; Steve’s blood was <em>boiling. </em>“Or what is with me? What. Is. So. Damn. Funny?!” he finished, putting his hands on his hips, staring down at his friend, who was momentarily wiping tears from his eyes.</p><p>He smiled at Steve graciously, shaking his head, breathing through the fit of laughter, genuinely trying to calm down.</p><p>“I can’t, I’m sorry. It’s gonna be my secret forever. I’ll take it to my grave.”</p><p>“Bucky,” Steve hissed in warning.</p><p>“It’s confidential.”</p><p>
  <em>‘Confidential’ my ass. </em>
</p><p>Steve spun Bucky’s chair, earning a yelp from the brunet, and his palms landed on the handles as he leaned onto Bucky’s personal space, practically hissing to his face. He didn’t care about personal space anymore. Bucky didn’t need his consideration, he was perfectly fine. He was just having plenty of fun at Steve’s expense and Steve was absolutely <em>done </em>with him.</p><p>“Tell. Me.”</p><p>The grey of Bucky’s irises glowed with amusement, but a flash of compassion couldn’t be denied as he probably <em>finally </em>recognized that he had gone too far. He pushed against Steve’s shoulder lightly, wordlessly asking Steve to give him a breather.</p><p>“Okay, okay, don’t get your glorious beard in a twist,” he mumbled and beckoned towards the couch for Steve to sit.</p><p>Steve was so taken aback by the words Bucky used that he obeyed and planted his behind on Bucky’s favourite spot on the couch.</p><p>“My glor- huh?”</p><p>Bucky chuckled, but this time, Steve couldn’t find any reminiscent of the anger in his chest at the sound, not a single spark. Bucky was laughing at <em>something</em>, but not necessarily him. That was progress and relief; and it dawned to Steve that the biggest part of the reason he was so mad with his best friend was fear. Fear that the man Steve would practically die for, the man who had fought tens of bullies for laughing at Steve for his size, for his health, for his nerdy brain… suddenly found him ridiculous too.</p><p>Steve didn’t know what he would do, how he would cope if that was the truth. Because he <em>always</em> had Bucky and he couldn’t imagine his life without him anymore.</p><p>“I’m… I’m sorry, Steve,” Bucky apologized sincerely as if reading Steve’s mind. He even smiled and shook his head self-deprecatingly as he rested his elbows on his thighs, fingers interlacing between his knees. “It’s nothing you did… mostly, anyway. It’s just… one of my students accidently sent me… an <em>interesting</em> file, to say at least.”</p><p>Why was this not making any more sense than before? An interesting file? What exactly did <em>that</em> mean?</p><p>“Okay…?” Steve encouraged him to continue, only to see Bucky deadpan, obviously disappointed in Steve for not figuring out what he was saying.</p><p>“It’s porn, Steve. She wrote porn and sent it to me, <em>probably</em> on accident.”</p><p>Steve’s mind went blank for a second, his body freezing.</p><p>Porn. A student – a very female student, apparently – sent Bucky… porn. Instead of an assignment. That was-- okay, that was pretty funny, he’d give Bucky that. It explained the random fits of giggles. But it didn’t explain-</p><p>Oh. Oh no.</p><p>Steve searched his memory for each of the moments Bucky nearly choked on laughter and what preceded them. Steve must have – unconsciously – remind him of- <em>whoa, wait a minute-</em></p><p>“And you <em>read</em> it?” Steve blurted out, scandalized. Alright, it was funny, but—chances were that the poor student hadn’t intended to show anyone, let alone <em>Bucky</em> of all people, her professor. It must have been clear to Bucky that the document was something entirely else than an essay from reading just few first lines, yet it hadn’t stopped him. Which meant that Bucky had read-</p><p><em>“All</em> of it? Geez, Buck-“</p><p>“Hey, you don’t get to judge me, Mr. Moral Compass! You haven’t read it! It’s good!”</p><p>“It’s professor-student, isn’t it?” Steve realized, whining and letting his head fall into his hands.</p><p><em>That</em> was why Bucky asked. The words Steve had spoken over the past days suddenly came back to him, a vague image forming in his head already: an exception. A good girl. A distraction.</p><p>He whined some more, cursing himself for every time he had walked straight into Bucky’s trap.</p><p>That asshole had the audacity to laugh at Steve’s misery.</p><p>To be fair, if Steve was now miserable, the girl who had sent it must have been <em>mortified </em>when she realized her error. Steve felt honestly sorry for her – mostly because he had a taste of what little shit Bucky could be.</p><p>“You’ve been an utter dick to her, haven’t you?”</p><p>Bucky snorted. “Not entirely. Not <em>explicitly</em> unlike someone.” Steve rolled his eyes. <em>Explicitly.</em> Puns and double entendre. <em>Of course. </em>Poor girl. “I like my job and despite what you think, I’m not completely stupid. I like to share the stupid with you.” Steve shot him a glare, half-offended, half-playful. “And a <em>dick?</em> Really, Rogers? Nice one.”</p><p>“Oh go to hell, Barnes!”</p><p>“I happen to like hell. It’s hot and full of sin.”</p><p>Steve ran a hand down his face, rising to his feet to pack up his things for the day, because he wasn’t sure he could be in the same room as Bucky anymore. Not because he was judgemental or disgusted – he wasn’t kidding anyone, curiosity would have probably gotten the best of him too had he been in Bucky’s shoes –, but because now he knew what was up and he might start laughing with him, not getting things done.</p><p>“Of course you do. So, it was good at least, huh?” he asked despite his better judgement, catching Bucky’s grin as he started picking up his stuff.</p><p>“I read it <em>all,</em> didn’t I?” Bucky asked rhetorically, an answer on its own. “I’m actually quite curious what you’ll have to say about it-“</p><p>“Oh no, you don’t-“</p><p>Steve wasn’t so sure he wanted to read it. Honestly, it was a funny story to tell, but he didn’t need <em>that</em> much detail. Plus, he still wasn’t keen on reading something with such dynamics, less so knowing that someone whom he was meeting in the school corridors had written it. Things might get awkward very quickly.</p><p>“Shut it. I’ll send it to you. I think you might like it. You’ll understand why I’m being so hysterical when you read it. I’ll be looking forward to your thoughts.”</p><p>And with a wink, new e-mail was sent to Steve’s inbox.</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>Steve wanted to resist the temptation, he truly did. He liked to think about himself as of a strong-willed man who when making up his mind could do almost anything.</p><p>But the temptation was too great – and if he was being honest, he knew that Bucky would bug him about it until he read it anyway. And hey, maybe he wouldn’t like it at all and could say so to his best friend and they could call it quits.</p><p>So he went for it.</p><p>As a man with certain amount of imagination, he was grateful to open the file before going to bed and not having an intrusive memory of a professor carrying the same name as the character in his mind.</p><p>Steve was also genuinely surprised that the writing style and the second person perspective didn’t throw him off right in the beginning. The flow was alright and he found himself being surprisingly okay with the fact that the narrator was – obviously – a woman.</p><p>Few minutes in, he caught himself imagining himself in the professor’s place due to almost identical description of looks; in his mind, the student was not carrying a generic face either. His lizard brain fished out <em>her</em> from the sea of faces, the student from Bucky’s class. Steve had only been there twice, but she managed to catch his attention with her glowing smile, little twinkle in her eyes and a body to fantasize about. The skirt she was wearing didn’t help her to blend in the crowd either and he often had chastised himself to look elsewhere during his lectures.</p><p>He kept seeing her everywhere since then and now she was back in his mind, playing a cute but determined student asking for another chance. Not a straight-A student, but witty, fresh and <em>different,</em> effortlessly seductive and really, the character fit <em>her</em> like a glove.</p><p>Steve could practically see her kneeling between his legs; he gave up the fight, his hand reaching to palm himself through his pyjama shorts with a relieved groan, giving some attention to his growing hard-on. </p><p>He lost it when he reached one particular line.</p><p>He read his own name; an infamous Freudian slip causing his balls to tighten. It was about him. <em>Her</em> hands, <em>her </em>mouth, <em>her</em> tight hot channel squeezing around <em>his</em> cock. He went for it fully and came as quick as an experienced teenager, breathing hard with the image of her face behind his closed eyelids, the waves of bliss washing over him for long moments after.</p><p>And then reality set it; Steve had a problem.</p><p>He tried to convince himself it was no big deal, but he still felt a bit dirty. It wasn’t… it wasn’t the first time he jerked off thinking of a student, it was only natural with how much time he spent in their presence, not meeting that many women outside university. It wasn’t the first time he jerked off thinking about <em>her </em>either if he was being honest with himself, but the power that came with his position had not played any role before.</p><p><em>Just a little fantasy,</em> he reminded himself, <em>nothing more than whoever wrote this did.</em> As long as he didn’t act on it, it would be alright.</p><p>Satisfied in more ways than one, he went to wash himself and laid himself to sleep.</p><p>His eyes snapped open to the darkness when he realized that he would have to somehow deal with Bucky the next day.</p><p>Steve did not get much sleep that night; for more reasons than just stressing over his intrusive best friend.</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>“Just ask me,” Bucky sighed, causing Steve to tentatively look up at him from his desk, surprised.</p><p>To his shock, Bucky didn’t say a word about the assignment gone wrong he had sent for Steve to read. He didn’t pry, didn’t ask his opinion, didn’t make any jokes. It baffled Steve, but he wasn’t about to complain about a peaceful morning.</p><p>Well, so much for that.</p><p>“Ask you what?” Steve asked innocently, pretending not having any idea what the other man was talking about.</p><p>“The question you want to ask.”</p><p>“That’s not really an answer, you know-“</p><p>“Fine, have it your way,” Bucky retorted, his smart-ass tone startling Steve, letting him know that the trouble was coming his way. “You read it, you liked it, you jerked off and now you want to know who has a filthy crush on you.”</p><p>Steve choked on his spit, feeling his face and neck burn at instant, his stomach twisting in shame. He was guilty as charged and blatantly called out; every word Bucky spoke was true… but not quite. Steve didn’t want to know who wrote the story.</p><p>Steve wanted to hear that <em>she</em> wrote it and indulge his little fantasy some more. It made him feel like a creep and it aroused him at the same time.</p><p>“You know there’s nothing wrong with that, right?”</p><p>Steve only managed to sputter a curse, leaning his elbows on his desk and pressing the heels of his palms to his eye sockets, much to Bucky’s amusement. Once again, he questioned why he was friends with this guy who could read his darkest thoughts and didn’t hesitate to call him out on his bullshit.</p><p>“Seriously, Steve, we’re all adults here,” Bucky chuckled, only receiving a half-hearted grunt in response. “And if you feel bad lusting after a student, she’s not <em>your</em> student, so don’t. Not that you know which one it is. Anyway, she’s in <em>my</em> class, so it wouldn’t even be breaking any rules, which <em>thank you, President Fury</em>. And honestly, I can’t even blame you, that thing she wrote is kinda hot. She clearly has a dirty mind, and just so you know, she’s definitely on the prettier side-“</p><p>Steve’s palms hit the table as he sent a glare in Bucky’s direction.</p><p>“Okay, fine! Point proven!” Steve exploded, the lack of sleep and frustration catching up with him at last. “Just… just tell me!”</p><p>A slow smile spread on Bucky’s face, indulgent, as he visibly enjoyed every second of Steve’s heavy breathing, every second of the torturous anticipation.</p><p>
  <em>Jerk.</em>
</p><p>“Please?” Steve added with an eye-roll, vainly hoping to disguise his desperation as annoyance.</p><p>When Bucky finally told him the name, Steve nearly fell off his <em>comfortable </em>chair.</p><p>He remembered that name. <em>Her name.</em></p><p>It seemed that his problem just became considerably bigger.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><b>Sidenote</b> (and total moodkiller, I’m aware, but the first aid lecturer in me kicked in):<br/>The way Bucky almost lost his arm in this fic? It’s happening. People do that. If anyone in your vicinity wants to do shit like climbing on freight cars, educate them, show them pictures of how it might end, anything. They don’t even have to touch the wires and lines; the humidity in the air will take care of everything. Just seriously… don’t let them. …gee sorry, for the brutal lecture.  </p><p><b>Anyway:</b> Always happy for any feedback. I hope you enjoyed more of ‘little shit Bucky’ :D The next chapter is gonna be ‘the fic of doom’ she has written, just so you know what Bucky kept referring to and what got Steve hot and bothered ;) </p><p> </p><p>  <b>Thank you for reading!</b></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Words of Filth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The words that started it all. Your dirty fantasy that was never supposed to see the light of day, let alone be read by Professor Barnes or Rogers. Why couldn’t you at least go with less obvious professor name?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>Warnings:</b> smut and a bit of filth, hints of dom/sub, oral (male receiving), cock warming, unprotected sex, use of the term ‘babygirl’, praise kink, professor kink (kinda?), brief mention of cumplay, potential age gap (? age not specified; just assumed), swearing (always)</p><p>EDIT after consufion comments: for those who forgot; she alternated the names just in case, remember? So yes. Professor Roberts. Miss Clark is obviously her alter ego.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You knew that what you were about to do was risky – but hell, you needed to try. Chances were that it wouldn’t even go that far; Professor Roberts was a respected scholar and just because he was the object of your dirty fantasies, it didn’t mean he would treat your request that way. Though the lingering gazes exchanged in the class told you that it might be exactly the case.</p><p>He invited you in instantly after you knocked, smiling slightly from behind his desk as he welcomed you and beckoned you to take a seat, scribbling some note on the paper he had been reading through before you entered.</p><p>With your teeth worrying over your red-painted lips, you hesitantly obeyed, dropping your backpack by the chair, adjusting your black pencil skirt.</p><p>Professor Roberts pouted slightly, pink lips peeking through his absolutely glorious beard and you decided to use the opportunity of his attention being elsewhere to feast your eyes on him. On his sharp jawline softened by the neatly trimmed beard, on his long eyelashes framing his gorgeous blues, on his dark blonde hair combed to side giving him an aura of a serious man, a gentleman from another time.</p><p>Your gaze travelled down his neck and arm – he was wearing one of the cardigans you loved on him just making the image in front of you downright panties-dropping –, stopping at the hand he was holding his pen with, still writing whatever complicated thought had been in his head. Seeing his long fingers, you had to close your eyes, your mind instantly filled with unholy images of where these fingers could go.</p><p>You had walked in ready to do whatever was necessary to earn your missing credit, but the truth was that should he ask a <em>particular kind</em> of favour, you’d feel blessed and very happy to oblige. Professor Roberts, to put it simply, was sex on legs – long legs emphasized by the dress pants with slightly higher waist he had a habit of wearing – and you would object to very few of things he might suggest.</p><p>“Now, Miss Clark, I understand we had some trouble with your final test. It did not paint you in the best light,” he started finally and you snapped your eyes open, trying your best to ignore the surge of desire when your name rolled off of his tongue so easily as if he was saying it every day… whispering it to your ear, groaning it as he-</p><p>“Y-yes, Professor. My nerves, unfortunately, got better of me,” you explained softly, looking into his eyes, feeling your stomach twist. God, <em>his eyes.</em></p><p>“Interesting. From what I saw during my classes, you never seemed to be the studying type in the first place… did you study for the test at all? Honestly, please.”</p><p>You gulped, unable to hold his gaze. You shook your head and he sighed, leaning his elbows on the desk.</p><p>“That is that I was afraid of. Miss Clark, when you do pay attention in my class, you even display a great capacity for seeing matters in a different light, from unusual angles, posing questions that make me wonder too. That is a very precious quality to possess,” he complimented you unexpectedly, and the surprise of it caused your eyes to meet his, intense blue burning – and for the first time, you discovered a drop of green in them, making your heart nearly stop.</p><p>Who gave him the damn right to be so hot and be a professor? How was one supposed to focus in the class in the first place with this specimen standing at the front?</p><p>You gulped, realizing you should probably express gratitude.</p><p>“Thank you, Professor.”</p><p>Professor Roberts nodded contentedly that his message was received. </p><p>“However, it is not enough.”</p><p>“Is there any chance at all that I might earn the credit?” you asked, defeatedly at first sight, slightly suggestively if he dared to truly look.</p><p>His back straightened a bit, his already square shoulders growing in size.</p><p>“There might be. I don’t usually give second chances, but for you, I might make an exception,” he hummed thoughtfully. “But I truly need to see some effort on your part, Miss Clark. Are you willing to put effort into your work?”</p><p>You licked your lips, the fact that his eyes followed the movement before swiftly returning to meet your gaze not escaping your notice.</p><p>There was hope after all.</p><p>Slowly rising to your feet, feeling almost shocking slickness between your legs at the prospect of pleasing him in any way he asked, you stood up by his desk, determined.</p><p>“I am willing to work very hard, Professor Roberts,” you declared, swallowing your jitters and holding his gaze.</p><p>A sweet smile spread on his lips, a plush temptation framed by his well-kept facial hair.</p><p>“I am pleased to hear that. How do you suggest you show me your genuine endeavour to earn your credit?”</p><p>This time without hesitation, you walked around the table, not averting his gaze once. He spun in the chair so his whole body faced you, his head tilted to side, a smile still playing in the corner of his lips. His eyes grew considerably darker and it only added to the heat in your abdomen. He wanted you too.</p><p>You unbuttoned the top of your blouse just to show a bit more cleavage than was considered polite.</p><p>“Like you said. I am willing to put a lot of effort into… my work.”</p><p>Without any verbal response on his part, he moved the chair a bit backwards and spun back to the table again, leaving just enough space for you to fit there.</p><p>“I am glad we have an understanding. Unfortunately, I need to grade these papers. I believe we will have to be multitasking.”</p><p>You nodded, falling to your knees and moving to fit between the desk and him, right between his legs. You would be ashamed for the saliva already pooling in your mouth, but he was such a fine man that you couldn’t even try to deny that you in fact <em>wanted </em>to do this<em>.</em></p><p>Silently undoing the buckle on his leather belt – and <em>Christ,</em> was the item giving you ideas – you unzipped his pants and slid them a bit lower with his help.</p><p>He shifted in the chair when you looked up at him, one of your hands reaching out and palming his growing erection. You shuddered at the sensation of his warmth on your skin and you knew he noticed. Something flashed in his eyes, but he turned his attention to the papers on his desk, seemingly unbothered by your actions.</p><p>He grew perfectly hard in your hand quickly and you freed him from his boxers, revelling at the sight of his erect cock as much as feeling slight worry about being able to handle such a challenge. You had felt him in your hand obviously, but seeing him fully ready, quite big and thick and <em>majestic</em> dare to say, you couldn’t but gulp, already feeling your throat burning.</p><p>Smearing the precum forming at the tip, you stroked him several times before taking an inch between your lips.</p><p>For a briefest moment, it dawned to you that perhaps you should feel dirty for doing this – but you didn’t. All you felt was need and desire – and if the feeling was mutual, then no matter the power imbalance in play, you couldn’t make yourself feel bad about it.</p><p>Not when you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, tasting him, and one of his hands slipped into your hair, encouraging you with a sigh. You sucked lightly before moving on, swallowing more of him and using your hands – one you laid on his thigh for the time being, the other wrapping around his neglected member.</p><p>You sucked again and bobbed your head, earning a hiss and a gentle pull on your hair. Not ceasing your movements, you raised your gaze to peek at his face; his jaw clenched, his eyes met yours and you felt him twitch in your mouth, the grip on your hair tightening.</p><p>“You look so pretty like that, with my cock in your mouth,” he praised, sending a fresh wave of warmth to your underwear, his appreciation causing your stomach to clench pleasantly. Encouraged, you took more of him and hollowed your cheeks. “Ah, <em>shit-</em> this feels--<em> you’re doing so good-“</em></p><p>Your hand nearly slipped and went straight to your underwear when he cursed – the nice collected professor falling apart under your hands and mouth, under your spell, that was a turn-on you hadn’t expected. The prove of your power over him was overwhelming as you tasted more of his precum on your tongue, eagerly licking at his shaft, exploring the weight of him, causing his hips to jerk forward.</p><p><em>“Ah, sweetheart-“</em> he groaned, losing all pretence that he was doing anything but relishing the heat and slickness of your mouth, his irises blown wide as he cupped your jaw with his other hand. You shuddered at both the movement and the pet name sounding so sweet and breathy on his lips.</p><p>You hollowed your cheeks again, but to your surprise, he used the grip on you to pull out with a wet pop, drops of drool staining his black pants. Before you could swallow both your saliva and disappointment and ask what you had done wrong, he lifted your chin up, the pad of his thumb brushing your swelled lower lip and the smeared lipstick on it.</p><p>Your hurt at his interruption, baffling as he had appeared to be enjoying himself, must have shown on your face, because for a second, something kind appeared in his eyes.</p><p>“You were doing great, babygirl, but this isn’t going to work,” he explained gently and his free hand slipped under your arm, hauling you up. “In fact, you were <em>too good,</em> too distracting.”</p><p>Reassured and yet confused, you followed his direction and scrambled to your feet. <em>God, </em>that pet name. <em>Babygirl</em>, spoken so softly with an edge of a raspy desire… your panties had been sufficiently ruined already and now... you were sure you must have been dripping down your thighs at this point.</p><p>As if he could hear your thoughts, his gaze fell under the cut of your skirt and he frowned, his fingers moving to the redness of your knees.</p><p>“And look at that, hurting your knees like that,” he lamented, his gaze trailing up higher along with his hand, solid warmth moving up your inner thigh under your pencil skirt. His eyes flickered up to yours, a wicked smile that caused your heart to beat its way out of your chest painting his lips. “Can’t have you hurting like this, babygirl, less so when you’re wearing a skirt.”</p><p>His thumb swept at the sensitive skin of the junction of your thigh and sex and then disappeared altogether, allowing you to release the breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. He tugged at your skirt then, his eyes sparkling.</p><p>“Off with this. Come sit with me.”</p><p><em>Sit with-</em> oh. <em>OH.</em></p><p>Your thighs clenched at the premise, your walls quivering when you imagined the fulness he would offer.</p><p>He raised an expectant eyebrow, challenging even, and you swiftly moved your fingers to undo the zipper on the back of your skirt, allowing the black material pool at your feet. Roberts spared your lower half an appreciative glance, his cock still standing at attention as you raised your leg to try and balance yourself on his chair.</p><p>He watched you hungrily through half-lidded eyes, his tongue darting to wet his pink lips, no doubt so soft in contrast to his rough beard. God, what you wouldn’t give to feel that beard and tongue between your thighs… but his thigh would do too, god, you’d ride it into sunset… or better yet, his cock.</p><p>“That’s it, get up here, make yourself comfortable,” he instructed you, placing his wide palms on the back of your thighs as you positioned yourself above him, probably looking awkward as you realized you should have discard your underwear as well.</p><p>One of his fingers traced your soaked panties, teasing your entrance, causing your breath to hitch, before a satisfied smile appeared on his lips, pushing the useless material aside.</p><p>“So pretty and ready for me, sweetheart,” he praised you again in husky voice, guiding you down to sit on his cock and you couldn’t stop the needy mewling sound erupting from your throat when the head of his thick cock nudged at your weeping cunt, stretching you beyond imaginable.</p><p>You could feel his heated gaze on you, revelling at how good he made you feel, how he made you crave his cock. A sigh escaped his parted lips as you descended, feeling every inch of him you took deep within your core, <em>so good</em>, but a little too much, the stretch leaving a considerable burn behind.</p><p>“Careful now, don’t hurt yourself, babygirl…. God, you’re so tight-- so wet and warm for me, what a good girl,” he hummed, his hands kneading your ass when you finally seated yourself, so full you could cry, and you whimpered at the words falling from his lips, sparking something inside you which you forgot you lived for. You wanted to be <em>such</em> <em>a good girl for him, </em>just to hear him say it. “Comfortable? Because I need you to sit still until I finish these… can’t have you distracting me wiggling around, sweetheart...”</p><p>You gulped, shifting just once to adjust to his length and thickness, causing both of you to moan in pleasure.</p><p>“I said sit still, babygirl, I have work to finish,” he rasped into your ear, grazing your earlobe with his teeth and your core pulsated at the sensation, sending a shiver down your spine.</p><p>You were sitting on top of the most attractive man you ever met, his cock buried inside you and you were supposed to <em>not</em> <em>to move?</em> This was fucking <em>torture</em>.</p><p>It was like placing your favourite dessert in front of you, close enough for you to smell it, almost taste it on your tongue, but forbidding you to dig in. <em>Worst even.</em></p><p>“Yes, Professor Rogers,” you whispered, feeling his smile against your neck and then the warmth of his breath disappeared from your skin and he indeed went to grade the damn papers.</p><p>Your eyes fluttered shut and you put all of your willpower into not moving a muscle, breathing through the sweet torturous sensation. Your mind wandered, images of him fucking you once he finished his stupid work and you felt yourself clench around him on occasion, earning a gruff warning each time.</p><p>You had no clue how much time had passed, but it felt like forever before he put his pen down, moving his hands to the back of your thighs, his lips catching the corner of your mouth, his beard scratching your skin pleasantly. You chased after his mouth on instinct and he chuckled, squeezing your flesh, causing your eyes to snap open.</p><p>His pupils were blown impossibly wide, only leaving a thin ring of blue for you to see. You could have drowned in it anyway.</p><p>“What a good girl you were, being almost still for me…” he hummed, sounding pleased, the praise going straight to your pussy, his hips snapping up to thrust deeper inside you, making you wince in pain and mewl in pleasure. “Let’s move this somewhere else.”</p><p>Before you even had a chance to react, he hauled you up in his arms and you instinctively grabbed at his shoulders, wrapping your legs around his waist, the display of strength making you dizzy with desire, the sensation of his flexed muscles under your palms only feeding the flame in your core.</p><p>You would let him do anything to you at that moment. Fuck you against a wall, hold you down, tie you up, <em>anything.</em> Just so he let you <em>come</em> because you were <em>this</em> close to reaching the point of insanity. The anticipation was <em>killing </em>you.</p><p>He walked you to the couch; it was a miracle that your foot hooked in his pants, preventing him from stepping on the fabric and sending you both to the ground. If that was a miracle though, then the head of his cock hitting just the right spot, as he seated you both on the much more comfortable and stable couch, was <em>divine.</em></p><p>“Oh my <em>God-“</em> you breathed out, your head falling back and his hand moved to your throat, fingers wrapping around it indulgingly in almost a caress, a stark contrast to the rough thrust of his hips up which hit that spot again.</p><p>“So fucking pretty,” he mumbled and then his mouth was on yours, dirty kiss with tongues tangling together, your imagination supplying you with how it would feel in your pussy and you whined into his mouth, nails scratching at his biceps over the cardigan, his own gripping your ass and nape. He withdrew abruptly, leaving you breathless and needing more. “Now show me some real work, babygirl. Ride my cock, take what you need.”</p><p>The words struck you like a lightning in your veins, your walls quivering at his request alone. Without needing to be told twice, you gripped his shoulders to brace yourself and begun to fuck yourself on that magnificent cock of his, finding the exact spot you craved to have stimulated.</p><p>You could feel him watching you with a grin, broken at the edges with his own pleasure as you rode him, his hands kneading your ass, your breaths over the material of your blouse and bra, clumsy fingers undoing the buttons and slipping it from your shoulders, unclasping the hooks of the last fabric in his way.</p><p>“God, such a good girl, so needy, so desperate for my cock- <em>fuck,”</em> he groaned when you undulated your hips in a new way, his fingers suddenly digging into your flesh, your muscles cramping from the strain, but you couldn’t stop, not when you were <em>so</em> close, you had to-- you needed to- “Come for me pretty girl, come on-“</p><p>When his fingers moved to dance over your clit, you lost it. You cried out as you felt apart, heat surging through your body, your cunt clenching around his length, sending fresh waves of pleasure into your system. The cramps in your thighs were long forgotten as you rode it out, his finger never ceasing its motions, playing with your clit and sanity.</p><p>And then his hand was gone, tearing your panties loose, grabbing you by your hips and thrusting forward, dragging his cock along your oversensitive walls. You winced, gasping at the almost painful sensation. Instinctively, you straightened your elbows, trying to get away, but his hold on you only grew firmer, guiding you to meet his movements.</p><p>You felt something in your abdomen twist, a strange sensation, too intense yet pleasant, your arms going limp, uncertain if you wanted to resist it or ask for more. You struggled to remember your own name as he hit a new spot inside you, causing you to see stars, your knees to wobble, your breath to stuck in your lungs.</p><p>Too much, this was <em>too much-</em></p><p>“Prof-professor-“ you choked out, once again attempting to get away from the overwhelming knot in your abdomen and his dark eyes met yours, glassy and determined, a wicked greedy glint in them. You realized what he wanted, but you- “I’ve never-- I-I can’t-“</p><p>“Oh you can, sweetheart, I know you can,” he opposed in hoarse voice, his cock swelling in you, a breathy sound escaping your mouth at the feeling of insane fulness. His gaze fell on your breasts, bouncing with each snap of his hips and then it moved lower, your own unable to resist and take a peek. You both watched his cock driving into you, glistening with your juices, some running down your thighs.</p><p>“Ah, shit, you feel so- look at that, taking my cock so well-“ he muttered, dazzled, and you felt yourself clench around him, causing him to throw his head back. “So wet, squeezing me so tight. You gonna come again? Make a mess for me like the good girl you are?”</p><p>You whined, feeling yourself on the verge of something unknown and amazing as his movements got sloppy, his rhythm broken, the wet sound and skin slapping skin filling your ears like cotton, making you deaf to the world around you.</p><p>“Touch yourself,” he commanded and you shook your head automatically, just <em>knowing</em> you couldn’t take anything more than this. “Want you to squirt for me, babygirl. Touch that pretty clit for me, <em>right now.”</em></p><p>He worked you like an instrument, one he knew how to play better than yourself. You obeyed with a deep inhale and felt yourself explode with only few circling motions of your finger, vision turning white with searing pleasure, a cry ripped from your throat, core clenching in a steely grip around his length. You barely felt his cum coating your inner walls, too busy fighting for air, for a grasp on any semblance of reality in this heaven and hell aligned.</p><p>Your whole body was floating, the pressure in your core slowly easing as you breathed, a distant sensation of fingers threading through your hair.</p><p>When your eyes fluttered open, you felt a stray tear running down your cheek, your gaze meeting with an adoring and very much self-satisfied pair of green-blue eyes.</p><p>“Told you you could do it,” he whispered, catching the drop of salt water on your skin, his thumb brushing your lips, automatically falling open to take it in.</p><p>A grin spread on his lips at that and he pulled out, the warm wetness running down your thighs instantly catching your attention and making you shiver in aftershocks. You could already feel the soreness that would follow you for days, but it was nothing in comparison to the sensation of his fingers tracing your mixed juices on your skin, almost as if painting a picture, a filthy piece of art.</p><p>“How long is that skirt of yours, babygirl?” he ruminated, rendering you speechless as his finger left a wet trail down your thigh, stopping <em>just</em> where you knew the hem of your skirt would be. “How far can I go without people noticing what you’ve been you up to, hm?”</p><p><em>Christ, </em>you couldn’t breathe in properly, almost shocked at the fresh wave of desire that surged through you. You went nearly blind with pleasure just minutes ago and your pussy was so fucked out you wouldn’t be able to walk straight, but God, would you let him ravish you all over again. Who knew that Professor Roberts was made of pure filth?</p><p>As if wanting to contradict the impression he left – or confirm it – he framed your face with his palms and took your mouth with his in a kiss you felt in your very soul, dirty, but full of unspoken words you could wonder about once your mind cleared enough to form actual thoughts.</p><p>He slowly urged you to stand up then, knees wobbly, skin sticky with sweat and proves of pleasure, hair sticking to the back of your neck and your forehead from your efforts. The useless piece of fabric – not in shreds but beyond repair – slid down your legs and you shakily walked to where you discarded your skirt, barely able to slip in on. Your bra was next, then your blouse. Your panties dangled from his finger before landing on his desk, a clear sign that you wouldn’t be wearing them anymore.</p><p>Professor Roberts already stood up and made himself presentable, even with a small patch of dampness on his dress pants and a barely-there flush to his face; you could only imagine what a sight <em>you </em>made, sweaty, your make-up running. Grinning at you, he handed you a wet wipe.</p><p>You automatically went to bend over to clean the mess you both made, but a hand on your wrist stopped you.</p><p>“That’s for your make-up, sweetheart,” he informed you gently, a twinkle in his eye, and you could feel heat rising to your cheeks, your core clenching around nothing once more.</p><p><em>Oh, he’s serious about that. </em> He really wanted you to walk back to your apartment with cum running down your thighs.<em> Well then.</em></p><p>“Of-of course. I’m sorry, Professor,” you stuttered a sweet apology, doing some guesswork as you fixed your face best as you could without a mirror. He gave you a gracious smile, handing you your backpack, tugging a loose strand of your damp hair behind your ear, almost tenderly. “Thank you.”</p><p>“My pleasure. However, your work isn’t entirely done.” Your heart stopped. What did <em>that </em>mean? “We need to make sure you will start working more consistently. How about you come here next week at the same time?”</p><p>A relieved smile found its way to your face, the prospect of <em>this</em> repeating sending a surge of arousal through your veins. You nodded and headed for the door – an unlocked door, you realized for the first time, your heart jumping when you imagined the possible consequences of your sloppiness.</p><p>Was it fear of excitement you felt? You couldn’t even tell anymore.</p><p>“And Miss Clark?” Professor Roberts called out lowly, causing you to stop in your tracks and look at him. He beckoned to the piece of fabric on his desk. “I don’t want anything in my way next time. We have an understanding, sweetheart?”</p><p>“Yes, Professor Roberts.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was way WAY out of my area of expertise and I had no clue what I was doing. So I just hope liked it at least a bit. It got a bit filthy but there was still a tiny piece of sweetness maybe, because it’s me? I don’t even know anymore. </p><p>Feedback appreciated, but gosh, please don’t be too harsh, my soul is fragile and condemned to go to hell after writing this. Good news is, I might meet Professor Barnes there, so it’s not entirely bad.</p><p>Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Words of Salvation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The world keeps turning, finals have to be passed, life goes on… but does it? How long can you get away with avoiding professor Rogers?</p><p>How long can you keep your eyes on him knowing he might have read it? How long can you keep your eyes off him when he’s still so damn hot? It’s infuriating, really…</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings: swearing, mention of porn, awkward conversations, brief panic, the briefest mention of a kink… and that’s it I think?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Never in your life you had called finals a blessing. The end of semester always meant eating crappier than usual, at the strangest times too, lacking sleep, overdosing on caffeine, people being in a foul mood and praying to whatever gods that came to mind to pass every exam in a <em>forget-the-grades- just-let-me-pass </em>style.</p><p>This year however, finals and the mess that came with them was exactly what you needed to get your mind off of your epically embarrassing error. The load of studying left you so nervous you didn’t even realize that your one of your tests was with Professor Barnes; once you finished writing and the paper disappeared from your sight, your hands automatically gathering your things, your steps leading you out of the auditorium, you nearly stumbled over your feet when you met Barnes’ smirk. But he didn’t give you any special treatment, promising to let you all know your grades via an e-mail and the incident was once again completely forgotten as you returned to the mad pit of exams time.</p><p>Two days later – Friday, which you only knew because it was your last test altogether and you simply couldn’t wait to fall into your bed and sleep for a week –, you left the class and felt the tide wave of freedom wash over you. You were still to learn some of your marks, but you were surprisingly confident that you passed everything.</p><p>You inhaled deeply, just standing in the empty corridor and smelling <em>freedom, </em>feeling your shoulders relaxing, the long-lasting tension in them finally subduing a bit.</p><p>“Done with everything?” a male voice startled you and you honest to god yelped and jumped few inches above the floor, your hand shooting up to your chest in fright, your heart missing a beat or two.</p><p>Your eyes snapped open at the intrusion you never heard coming, but you didn’t need to see to know who spoke. That voice starred your sweetest dreams – and after <em>the incident, </em>your nightmares too<em>.</em></p><p>A tiny smile played on his lips, his brows creased a fraction, beautiful blue eyes apologetic.</p><p>“I’m sorry. That was inconsiderate of me. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Professor Rogers offered his apology along with a smile that seemed almost sheepish.</p><p>Your heart was on its way out of your chest, heat already rising to your cheeks. Just seeing him was enough to make you hot all over, but for once, you had a hard time identifying whether it was because of your embarrassment or the fact he was no less handsome and <em>friggin’ hot </em>than usual.</p><p>You clenched your fists, fingers fumbling nervously even in that position.</p><p>What were you supposed to say? Why did he even stop to chat with you? Was he about to confront you? Had he read the… <em>thing</em> you wrote? Would he laugh at you? <em>Not likely.</em> Would he report you or something? <em>Well, so far he haven’t.</em> Maybe it was a coincidence and he was simply being nice since he ran into you in an empty hallway?</p><p>
  <em>Yeah, not likely.</em>
</p><p>“It’s… it’s nothing,” you finally stuttered out, your hands moving to play with the straps of your backpack instead, your gaze avoiding his, because how could you even look him in the eye <em>ever again</em> if he had read it? God, what he must have been thinking about you-</p><p>You cleared your throat awkwardly, forcing yourself to focus on literally anything else. He asked you a question, right?</p><p>“Yeah, I’m done. Thank you for asking…?”</p><p>Was it just your imagination or did he seem nervous too? He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, arms crossing on his chest.</p><p>It was impossible to ignore the way his biceps bulged in that stupid dark blue shirt of his that was a size too small and you felt your face catch fire as you instinctively ogled him because <em>Jesus Christ,</em> when you are posted in front of an art piece, you do not look the other way.</p><p>“Good, good,” he rumbled, his voice just a little deeper than usual, causing your abdomen to clench despite the awkwardness. <em>Really? Aroused? Now? After everything? You never learn, huh?</em></p><p>When your gaze flickered to his face at the uncomfortable silence that followed and his lips parted as if he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure <em>how</em>, you simply knew.</p><p>Your feet shifted an inch as the instinct to <em>run</em> overtook your brain. Your palms turned impossibly sweaty, your pulse skyrocketed, breath catching in your throat, your world swaying for few moments. Every inch of you was set aflame, this time definitely in embarrassment.</p><p>“You read it,” you stated the obvious, eyes glued to the floor as if you were saying it to it rather than <em>him.</em></p><p>Him being Professor Rogers. Whose name you had typed out in your story, because your brain was a mess and even in your fantasyland, you had slipped once as you imagined him in the place of Professor ‘Roberts’.</p><p>How stupid was <em>that?</em></p><p>“…yes,” he replied simply, as if he wasn’t confirming your worst fears, turning your nightmares into reality.</p><p>You covered your face with your palms, hiding from his sight as you felt tears of humiliation gathering in your eyes, burning as much as the rest of your face.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” you mumbled into your hands and deliberately stumbled backwards in search for the wall, needing something to lean onto as your knees felt like giving out. Darkness embraced the edge of your vision even with your eyes closed, your chest growing unbearably heavy, your stomach twisting.</p><p>Knowing Professor Barnes read your thirsty fantasy was one thing. That was… uncomfortable and incredibly embarrassing.</p><p>But Professor Rogers reading it? Well, <em>fuck me up,</em> shit just became real. And very serious. Barnes could make fun of you. Rogers could <em>smite you.</em> He could probably have you kicked out from university for real.</p><p><em>Jesus fucking Christ,</em> he had read it. <em>What</em> was he going to do about it?!</p><p>“Hey-- hey! Breathe!” a voice urged you, a brief squeeze of your forearm quickly disappearing when you winced at the sudden contact.</p><p>In any other situation, you might burst with excitement that he was touching you. Now? Not really, no.</p><p><em>“Breathe.” </em>Instinctively, you listened to his voice over the intrusive hum in your ears, realizing you had in fact had been holding your breath, which caused the world spin some more. <em>“In and out. You’re fine. Nothing is going to happen. I promise. No hard feelings.”</em></p><p>A chocked sound left your lips at the ‘hard’. And really, how much would it take to pull your mind out of the gutter?! If this didn’t do it, what would?</p><p>“Look at me. You’re alright. I’m… flattered if anything,” he added then and you shrieked, unable to hide your shock.</p><p>He did <em>not</em> just say that, did he?!</p><p>“For what it’s worth, I think the writing style was really good too.”</p><p>You didn’t even know how to describe the sound you let out at <em>that.</em> Was he for real now? Was he trying to torture you? Could the floor <em>please</em> swallow you at last?</p><p>“I wouldn’t even bring it up, but since you already have… I want to apologize.”</p><p>That <em>did</em> make you look at him, your world steadying at instant, the dam breaking and releasing few solitary tears you didn’t bother wiping away, too shocked by what you were hearing.</p><p><em>“You </em>are sorry?” you asked incredulously, clearing your throat of the lump that had grown there at some point.</p><p><em>He</em> was sorry? What the fuck was he being sorry for?! For being so damn attractive that your mind couldn’t but admire him even now as he was partly leaned into your personal space, watching you closely, green pools of regret glimmering in his blue eyes.</p><p>One corner of his lips lifted in a barely visible lopsided smile as if he was happy that he finally got you to look at him again. That smile of his… would he have dimples if it hadn’t been for the beard? Because he already had few freckles dusting his nose and cheeks and it was the <em>cutest</em> thing you had ever seen on a man that was already so damn fuckable you felt the need to write a story about it. You could write about his stupidly beautiful face and sweet smile alone-</p><p>
  <em>Just—stop that train of thought right there, you dumbass, really not the time, look where it got you the last time.</em>
</p><p>“Yes, I am sorry,” he repeated, his gaze roaming all over you, checking if you stopped panicking. Why did he have to be so nice? <em>Why</em> was he apologizing? He sighed, straightening his back as did you when you noticed that the hallway was slowly filling with students. “I can imagine Bucky--<em>Professor Barnes-</em> was being… there is no other way to put it, being <em>a jerk</em> about it. I’m sorry if he gave you a hard time.”</p><p>Seriously, was he doing that on purpose? ‘Jerk’ <em>and</em> ‘hard’? You closed your eyes and shook your head, breathing in deeply, trying your best to calm your mind. Ironically, the people around you who could have overheard your conversation had they cared enough, gave you a feeling of security and unwittingly provided the emotional support you needed.</p><p>You felt your heart slowly settling, your breathing going back to normal. Hell, you even charmed a small smile when you looked at Professor Rogers again, feeling relief wash over your very being when you realized he was serious, offering you an olive branch.</p><p>And damn, his smile widening a bit and reaching his eyes, that was a picture you wanted to save for later.</p><p>“That is on me, isn’t it?” you hummed. “But thank you. That was very kind of you.”</p><p>He waved it off almost jovially.</p><p>“Don’t mention it. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t beating yourself overt it. Well, I won’t keep you anymore, I’m sure you must have better things to do than standing here having this awkward conversation.”</p><p>A surprised chuckle escaped your lips at his bluntness and you could honestly swoon when you noticed his neck and ears turning a shade redder, his hand twitching and scratching the back of his neck before he caught himself in the tick that apparently overpowered him when he felt… <em>sheepish, </em>you guessed<em>. </em>Flustered. Oh now this was a whole new side to him you couldn’t have possibly get a glimpse of before and you found it absolutely endearing.</p><p>The sight of a flustered Professor Rogers caused your heart to flutter pleasantly. He really was one of a kind, wasn’t he?</p><p>Well, <em>sigh,</em> he couldn’t possibly want you. And he might not be teaching any of your classes, but he was still a professor. Untouchable. A perfect little dream. A guilty pleasure to fantasize about.</p><p>“Thank you, Professor Rogers. Have a nice day,” you wished him politely, making your way out, grateful you could blend with the crowd of students.</p><p>You would swear that despite his kind words, <em>no hard feelings </em>and all that, you saw the strangest expression cross over his face when he said goodbye. It was understandable though – if he was right about one thing, then it was that the conversation was awkward.</p><p>Still, you coaxed yourself into thinking that you two could interact like normal human being should the need arise again and at that, your soul felt as light as a feather.</p><p>You could be a good at bullshitting yourself when you wanted to.</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>Penny nearly lost it when you told her about the encounter.</p><p><em>You</em> nearly lost it when at eight p.m. on Friday night, you received an e-mail from one Professor Barnes. Apparently, he wanted you to swing by in his office on Monday afternoon to discuss your final test. Your heart dropped to your stomach, emotions swirling.</p><p>Had you messed it up? Did he suspect you might have cheated? (You hadn’t.)</p><p>Or was this a part of what Professor Rogers had talked about, about <em>Bucky</em> being a jerk? Because discussing your final test… well. That was the very start of the story you had accidentally sent him. But as much as you hated it, you couldn’t ignore his request, because if there <em>was</em> any problem with your test, then not showing up might result in trouble you didn’t want to deal with.</p><p>Your weekend was spent by worrying about Monday and picking your courses for the next year. You were very reluctant about joining another of Barnes’ classes, but be as it might, he was really good at what he was doing. <em>Insanely</em> good. People practically fought over his and Rogers’ classes and you wouldn’t miss the opportunity to sign up for another year of fun history.</p><p>You did not summon the courage to sign up for Professor Rogers’ class, knowing you wouldn’t be able to focus. Not to mention the possibility of making him uncomfortable by your presence despite whatever he had told you.</p><p>In general, your weekend was depressingly school-like despite your exams being done.</p><p>Monday 1 p.m., you knocked on the door reading Barnes and Rogers’ names, waiting to be allowed in. It was distant, but you could swear you heard a ‘come in’, so you entered. Your heart, already pounding in your chest, leaped to your throat.</p><p>Barnes was <em>not</em> in.</p><p>Professor Rogers looked up from his laptop, surprise written all over his face as he rose to his feet.</p><p>“Oh. Hi— eh, good afternoon,” he greeted you, shaking his head at his originally informal hello, sending his neatly combed blond locks flying.</p><p>You stood frozen in the doorway, speechless.</p><p>You were certain this man truly existed just to lead you on the path of sin; he was wearing a shirt the shade of blue or green, something in between that seemed to accent the blue of his irises. He must have grabbed the wrong size once again too since the fabric clung to his ripped body a little too much, causing your core to warm up, your heart to flutter. A small confused smile played on his lips, the beard always giving you ideas trimmed as perfectly as ever. You didn’t dare to look bellow the leather belt around his waist, because that truly might be your end.</p><p>Professor Rogers was a walking incarnation of Satan ready to lead you astray and you would probably thank him for it like a good girl.</p><p>“Anything I can help you with?” his gentle voice snapped you from your reverie, only feeding your unholy thoughts.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, I can think of plenty of things you could help me with.</em>
</p><p>Heat crept up your neck and face as you chastised yourself, recalling why this encounter could quickly turn awkward. Brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, you wavered in the entrance, looking around hesitantly.</p><p>“I… uh, good afternoon, Professor Rogers-“ And there it was again, that strange look on his face he fixed so quickly you wondered if you had only imagined it. “I’m sorry for interrupting your work. Uhm… Professor Barnes asked me to come in today? To discuss something about my final test? I can come back-“</p><p>“Nonsense. Come in,” he gestured lightly, walking around the table to beckon towards the couch. <em>That couch.</em></p><p>
  <em>Don’t think about it, DO NOT think about it- </em>
</p><p>You bit down on your lip, wondering if this was a good idea. But hey, why not? Professor Rogers was being perfectly polite and was just offering you to wait in, something he would have done for any student, you were sure of it.</p><p>You nodded and closed the door behind you, whispering a thanks.</p><p>“He should be back here any minute,“ Professor Rogers informed you as you indecisively stood by the couch. Meanwhile, he moved to a room somewhere behind you, something barely bigger than a closet you hadn’t noticed the one time you had been here to see Barnes before. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”</p><p>You squeezed your eyes shut, a quiet startled noise coming out of your mouth at his words; you heard his steps halt, knowing that little sound didn’t escape his attention and you could slap yourself.</p><p>This could have been absolutely alright. But no, your lizard brain just <em>had to</em> recall that damn line from your own damn porn.</p><p>He huffed something dangerously resembling a chuckle and while you stubbornly refused to look at him, observing the office instead, you peripherally saw him shake his head.</p><p>“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-- <em>sorry.</em> Can I get you anything? Water, coffee, tea?”</p><p>You had no idea how he sounded so calm. You wished to just melt into the floor or vaporize or <em>something,</em> but if he was about to be an actual adult, you could do that too, right? Even despite your obvious teenage-like crush.</p><p>“Water would be nice, thank you,” you replied, finally forcing yourself to look at him, his broad shoulders barely fitting into the space with a sink and a small counter with a kettle and a coffee maker.</p><p>The smile didn’t leave his lips and you felt yourself relax enough to return the sentiment when he handed you a glass, your fingers brushing – whether it was an accident or not, that was for you to wonder about later.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“You’re welcome. Seriously, you can take a seat,” he teased you lightly and you couldn’t but marvel at his behaviour.</p><p>Perhaps it was the end of the semester, perhaps it was the fact he was in his relatively safe space, but hadn’t seen him this relaxed, ever. And you had been paying attention, alright…</p><p>So you obediently sat down, sipping at your water and watching him move confidently around the room, shoving his chair to sit opposite to you.</p><p>Your determination to act normal quivered, suddenly standing on a shaky ground.</p><p>“You-- you don’t need to keep me company or anything, I really don’t want to keep you from your work, Professor-“</p><p>“You’re not,” he assured you kindly, that dumb smile still on his face, turning you into a mess. The fact there was a wet patch on your panties already was given, but the urge to just curl up in his arms and bask in his warmth was new and… rather unwelcomed to be honest. <em>Super-inconvenient.</em> “I’m actually grateful to have a reason to get my mind into the present for a bit. Have you picked your courses for next year?”</p><p>Who were you to refuse a talk with Professor Rogers, even if it concerned school? Like this, you could stare at him all you wanted – still fascinated by the lack of awkwardness in the air – and didn’t have to find excuses to feast your eyes on him. <em>Shit,</em> why did he always seem to be looking to the darkest depths of your soul whenever you met his gaze?</p><p>“Yeah. Yes, I have.”</p><p>One of his brows rose in expectation, a silent question you didn’t quite want to answer. You squirmed in your seat.</p><p>“I didn’t sign up for any of your courses,” you admitted, biting your cheek to keep yourself from laughter when he theatrically laid his palm over his chest, clearly pretending to be wounded.</p><p>Something flashed in his eyes though, something content almost and you felt your mood sink, not quite able to keep the corners of your lips from turning down. He was happy he wouldn’t have to meet you on regular basis. Why did it hurt? That was what you wanted, that was <em>why</em> you didn’t sign up-</p><p>“I’m wounded,” he informed you and levelled you with mock stern look. “I guess I didn’t do a good enough job as a substitute, didn’t leave good enough of an impression.”</p><p><em>“Oh believe me, you left an impression,” </em>you mumbled under your breath and nearly chocked on your next sip of water when he retorted:</p><p>“I did?”</p><p>Your eyes widened, your palm slapping over your mouth, causing his lips to twitch.</p><p>He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, fingers interlaced.</p><p>“Sorry, good hearing, comes in handy. I—eh, I actually wanted to ask you something else too.”</p><p><em>Run, run, RUN, </em>you chanted in your mind, but instead, you sat frozen in your seat, watching every micro-expression appearing and leaving his face. The beard made it difficult, but his eyes spoke volumes.</p><p>“Look, I… I’m aware I’m being completely out of line right now and I want you to know that whatever you might say, whatever your answer might be, you did not sign up for any of my classes, so it won’t affect you… it won’t affect your marks or anything,” Professor Rogers said in a comforting tone and you felt <em>everything but</em> comforted, utterly confused about where this was heading.</p><p>You had an unpleasant hunch it concerned that damn story, but you didn’t even let yourself think about that; your heart was freaking out enough as it was already, pulse thumping in your temples.</p><p>His eyes roamed your face, searching for something, an intense gaze that made it impossible to look away.</p><p>“I noticed you in the class before.”</p><p>Your heart might have sped up, your body tensing as you were taken aback, but you couldn’t make yourself to blink and lose the eye-contact for even a millisecond.</p><p>“You… you did?” you breathed out shakily, butterflies flipping their wings in your stomach as you caught his smile peripherally.</p><p>“Yes. You were… different, a good different.”</p><p>You gulped and wetted your suddenly dry lips. His gaze followed the motion and you could swear you were about to explode when he mirrored the movement.</p><p>
  <em>No fucking way.</em>
</p><p>“O-okay?”</p><p>He blinked, releasing you from the cage of his gaze and allowing you to breathe in, to shake off the flutter in your stomach, the clench of your core.</p><p>Oh, you were so screwed. What was this man doing to you… it was downright unfair to be affected like that! But… was he trying to say what you thought he was trying to say?</p><p>“I like the way you look at things, you’re a fresh wind. Bucky let me read your essays – they are pretty thoughtful.” He read up on you? Well, <em>now</em> colour you confused. Perhaps this was heading a completely different direction than you had thought just a moment ago. You swallowed the ray of hope along with your disappointment. “But… it wasn’t the only reason I noticed you.”</p><p>You waited, staring at him as his gaze fell on the floor, a self-depreciating smile appearing on his lips. You were rendered speechless, barely following his train of thought.</p><p>“What I’m trying to say is that— I just wanted to ask if you ever wanted to get coffee?” he said finally and that moment you were positive your heart stopped. It must have and now you were in heaven. Or was it hell? Because he was definitely sinful. A bit cute momentarily, as he appeared nervous asking you, but still. He always looked sinful.</p><p>Your lips parted in silent shock, an undeniable tingle in your stomach. Did he… did he like you? Or was he simply curious about your… steamy story? Was it curiosity? Was it a dare? Was it-</p><p>“You can totally say no, of course!” he hurried to reassure you while you breathed through your astonishment. “That’s why I said there would be no consequences. And just so you know, there’s nothing wrong about meeting for a coffee concerning the university rules, because you are not my student and it doesn’t even have to mean anything – it could be just two people drinking coffee or tea or whatever, talking like friends--- <em>acquaintances,</em> discussing history or whatever topic comes to mind.”</p><p>Professor Rogers was completely flustered, seemingly panicking and desperate to fix whatever offence he thought he had created and you had to blink several times as million thoughts swirled in your head, excited ones, delighted ones and dark ones, anxiety creeping in, stopping you from grinning like a loon.</p><p>“I… is it because of what I wrote?” you whispered, meeting his eye hesitantly, apparently startling him, because he now looked like a deer caught in the headlights.</p><p>“No! No- I mean-“ You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, an ugly sinking feeling in your stomach. So maybe this was it, the true humiliation you had expected when- “Dammit. I- I liked you, alright? You caught my attention in the class and then this mess happened and first, I didn’t know who wrote the story and I just… I was hoping it was you, because that would mean I wasn’t a total creep for thinking about you and--- …I just wanted it to be you,” he whispered, his speech starting off heatedly, slowly turning hesitant and heavy with a confession.</p><p>A confession which, had it been recorded, might be quite compromising, posing danger to his career. And yet he laid it out, baring himself to you, left exposed and vulnerable to your judgement and actions. Putting himself to the same position you had been when your story left the safety of your laptop.</p><p>Your eyes fluttered open, finding him staring at the floor, fingers anxiously gripped together, his hair slightly dishevelled as if he had run his hand through it during his confession. Your heart melted at the sight, at yet another side of him revealed, and you couldn’t but yearn for him, couldn’t but believe that he was being completely and entirely honest.</p><p>Silence settled on the office, heavy and suffocating, your heart beating so loud that the sound must have been bouncing off the walls.</p><p>This was crazy. You didn’t even know each other well, barely at all, and no matter what the rules said, this could have turn into an utter mess and for what? For a bit of longing? For a silly crush?</p><p>There were <em>so many</em> things that could go wrong-</p><p>“Yes,” you whispered before you could stop yourself.</p><p>Professor Rogers’ head instantly snapped up, shocked blue orbits staring into your soul. He looked so genuinely surprised that you felt your lips spread in a smile, your answer suddenly becoming obvious. How could you even hesitate?</p><p>“Yes, I think I’d like to get coffee with you.”</p><p>It was your turn to drop your gaze when a radiant smile appeared on his face, lightening up his expression, all of sudden too bright to be looked at.</p><p>
  <em>“Thank you.”</em>
</p><p>You chuckled into your palm eyeing him and bursting into a fit of incredulous giggles. Did you really just agree to go out with him? With the guy you… eh, wrote porn about?</p><p>Something resembling hurt flashed over his face and you quickly shook your head, stretching as much as you could while still sitting, reaching out to touch his hand, to reassure him you were certainly not laughing at him, that this was not a joke.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I just… this is kinda ridiculous. I- I have a bit of trouble processing this,” you admitted sheepishly, the giggles subduing, but the smile remaining, turning shy.</p><p>Professor Rogers’s demeanour softened instantly, a glint of something that appeared a lot like fondness in his eyes. And <em>wow, </em>you weren’t sure how long you could keep up the <em>Professor Rogers </em>thing if you were to go out… Steve then?</p><p>His hand engulfed your fingers gently, leaning forward so he could brush his lips over your knuckles, his beard tickling your skin in stark contrast to the warmth, having your mind once again rushing somewhere inappropriate; and yet, you felt your heart swell at the tenderness of his gesture.</p><p><em>Charming bastard.</em> Not only he had you dreaming about him in the filthiest way, now he wanted your heart too? Already? Greedy much?</p><p>“There’s no rush, alright?” he assured you and ran the pad of his thumb over the previously caressed skin, leaning back to sit straighter without releasing you. “And if you decide to… to call it off-- if you change your mind, I’ll understand. No strings attached, yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah,” you echoed, squeezing his fingers, startled when a loud knock sounded from the door, instantly snapping you back to reality and causing you to slip from his grip, backing into the couch in fear of getting caught red-handed. Or handholding, in your case, which, <em>what the hell.</em></p><p>Professor Barnes’ head peeked in, a cheeky grin on his face widening when he noticed your startled expression.</p><p>“You guys decent? Can I come in?”</p><p>Professor Rogers – Steve? – sighed, sounding bone-tired. “Buck, it’s your office too.”</p><p>“Well, yeah, but I gave you two some space to deal with your… <em>issues </em>and one can never know if he’s about to walk into some smooching after that,” Barned hummed as he entered, the door clicking shut behind him as the realization struck you.</p><p>He had set you up. He wanted you to find Steve alone in his office. Where had he been then? Hiding behind the corner, waiting for you to show up? Listening in behind the door too, waiting for the right moment to appear?</p><p>Your face heated up at the idea and you sunk further into the couch, mortified.</p><p>Then again, Barnes had read your porn. About his best friend, no less. Could there really be anything more compromising than that? You doubted that.</p><p>Steve cleared his throat, rising to his feet. “Well, mission accomplished. I believe you wanted to discuss something with-“</p><p>Professor Barnes had the audacity to chuckle. “Oh, please. Her test is fine, she got a B. The only thing I need to tell her is that if you two are about to get together and make it a public thing – which you will at some point, because it’s kinda inevitable, really – I might have to keep her records more detailed, keeping her tests for longer period, recording the oral exam if there’s one, just to prove I’m not playing favourites for my friend. But we cross that bridge when you get there. Questions about the course you’re taking next year?”</p><p>You barely kept up with him, growing more uncomfortable with each sentence, but it was the last one that struck you. And the one before that, but that was a lot to unpack there.</p><p>“Do you already know I’m in your course?” you blurted out, shooting Professor Rogers’ a suspicious glare when Barnes’ eyebrow rose as if telling you that <em>yeah, obviously. </em>“Interesting…”</p><p>The tips of Steve’s ears burned red and he cleared his throat. So, he had known that you were taking no classes of his next year when he asked. How different his today’s behaviour would be if he didn’t know? If you <em>had</em> picked him as a professor?</p><p>You couldn’t but thank to heavens for being so sensible and not choosing his class, even if for a whole different set of reasons.</p><p>“And uhm… ‘<em>when’</em> we get there?” you questioned lightly, feeling dizzy and baffled by Professor Barnes being so sure that you <em>would</em> go out with his best friend <em>and </em>that you would work out as a couple.</p><p>“I’m sorry, did I stutter?” he huffed, looking like he was barely holding back an eye-roll. Respected professor <em>my ass.</em> “Someone should have caught it on camera, the way you were gazing at each other when I came in. I’m kinda disappointed to be honest, I <em>was</em> expecting some make-out session at least.”</p><p>“Bucky, please shut up. I’m begging you,” Professor Rogers complained, his whole face set aflame now. No matter how perplexed you were by Barnes’ words, you couldn’t but chuckle at Rogers’ obvious exasperation and embarrassment. He smiled at you, a tiny lift of his lips. “How about I’ll walk you out.”</p><p>Professor Barnes eyebrows lifted twice in a suggestive manner and you had to look away, biting your cheek to stop the giddy laughter which threatened to bubble in your chest. God, he was trouble. How did Professor Rogers deal with him all the time?</p><p>“That… uhm, that would be very kind of you,” you replied, leaving the other man behind as you and Steve walked to the door.</p><p>“See ya!”</p><p>“See you, Professor Barnes.”</p><p>You nearly jumped out of your skin when Rogers’ hand gently landed on your back, silently pleading you to just get out of Barnes’ reach. The heat instantly flooding to the point of contact made your gut clench pleasantly. He had big hands, warm, long fingers that felt really nice and-</p><p>Aaaand you were back with your mind in the gutter, great. But hey, you were entitled now. <em>Steve</em> had asked you out; how crazy was that?</p><p>“…thank you, Professor Rogers,” you whispered respectfully once you were by the door, looking up into his eyes, not missing the way his pupils dilated a fraction.</p><p><em>Well, well, well…</em> perhaps your story had hit a bit closer to home than you could ever guess. The premise of something even resembling your fantasy actually happening caused your core to ache. You distracted yourself by shoving him a piece of paper from your purse.</p><p>“Here. My number-- <em>oh</em>- you could probably just find it in the system too or-”</p><p>“I prefer it this way, believe me. Thank you. I’ll text you or call you today so you have my number too, in case of-- if you changed your mind or anything,” he added, suddenly unsure.</p><p>You couldn’t have that now, could you? He didn’t get to bait you just to back out now!</p><p>“I’ll be waiting. Have a good day, <em>Professor Rogers,” </em>you emphasized this time, adding a bold wink when you heard his sharp inhale.</p><p>He cleared his throat, his Adam’s apple jumping and the surge of confidence you felt in your veins almost made you dizzy. <em>He likes me too.</em> <em>He said he thought of me. I guess that it was in more ways than I could hope for.</em></p><p>“R-right. You too. Uhm, goodbye.”</p><p>The door closed shut behind you, but it didn’t do the best job muffling the voices inside.</p><p>“Man, she’s gonna fuck you up on a whole new level and I’ll be here for it in the front row with a bowl of popcorn,” Professor Barnes burst out laughing, so loud you nearly missed Professor Rogers’ retort.</p><p>“Shut the fuck up, Buck!”</p><p>“Make me-“</p><p>“Oh, I-“</p><p>The corners of your lips twitched wildly at their banter. Perhaps having coffee with Steve would be the most <em>normal</em> date of your life if this or the way you two had talked earlier was anything to go by.</p><p>And yet, it would be <em>fucking</em> extraordinary. He <em>asked you out.</em> Professor Steve Rogers asked you out… what the hell was your life?</p><p>Awesome, it was <em>awesome.</em> You managed to keep the giggles inside, your chest shaking silently, until you left the building and then you let them out along with a squeal of delight.</p><p>You knew that what you were about to do was risky – but damn, did you want to try.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi, lovlies! Thank you for reading and leaving feedback and kudos. It makes me truly, truly happy :-* </p><p>There’s only the epilogue ahead now... oops.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Epilogue - The Three Words</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sometimes, a mess can turn into a great thing. Sometimes it doesn’t. It’s up to you to decide whether take the chance or not. Professor Steve Rogers makes it easier.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oops, the epilogue ended up chapter-long. Oops, I made it fluffy. Well. What can I say... enjoy?</p><p><b>Warnings:</b> smut, 18+, semi-public masturbation if you squint, some self-depreciation and fluff… and language (always)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Your pen was half-heartedly scribbling on the paper, your brain not quite registering the words coming from his mouth.</p><p>You weren’t prepared for a damn history lecture; mostly because when you knocked on the door of the professor’s office, you did not expected to find him <em>not</em> alone; his colleague, the grumpy old idiot, was sitting at his desk, making nots from a book which you probably wouldn’t even be able to lift with how thick it was.</p><p>Speaking of thick things… one was meant to be between your legs now, but no, the other prof just had to sit there third-wheeling and cock-blocking—<em>dammit.</em></p><p>Now here you were, sitting opposite to Professor Rogers at his desk, pretending to be taking notes while he kindly filled in your missing knowledge, talking about god knew what.</p><p>His voice was a balm to your ears, deep timbre echoing in your ribcage, stirring heat in your abdomen. His voice did things to you no matter what words he spoke and from what distance, but you much rather had him whispering filthy suggestions to your ear, teeth grazing your skin, praises for all the things you allowed him to do to you, with his fingers, with his tongue, with his-</p><p>“Miss Clark!” Professor Rogers snapped all of sudden, voice stern and minutely louder than before. Your head snapped to him at instant, meeting his intense glare and a raised eyebrow. “Do I need to remind you that you were the one who expressed a supposedly genuine endeavour to earn your credit? If you could take notes instead of…” he eyed your wannabe notes with the scepticism they deserved “-<em>doodling,</em> that would be splendid.”</p><p>The smirk on his lips gave him away as he met your gaze, rising from his seat pointedly.</p><p>“Yes, Professor Rogers,” you said meekly, speeding up the circles and other random motions with your hand. “I’m sorry. My mind wandered off, I got lost in your narrative. It won’t happen again.”</p><p>You were so full of shit, because the only thing you got lost in was your own imagination, unholy pictures filling your impatient brain. Professor Rogers certainly knew that too – but he kept the front up for his colleague who just couldn’t seem to leave the damn room if even for a minute.</p><p>“It better not,” Professor Roberts commented gruffly, circling the hardwood desk slowly, fingers tracing the top of what he was meant to be fucking you against shall your fantasy come true <em>any time soon.</em> You shifted in your seat, feeling slickness gathering between your lower lips in anticipation. “As I was saying, the battle of Stalingrad…”</p><p>A sudden thought struck you when he stood beside you; for the first time in the past hour, you actually wrote something down instead of drawing random patterns.</p><p>Professor Rogers looked over your shoulder, reading the line about Professor Banks being a pain in your ass and you going crazy with need for your tutor’s cock. Peripherally, you saw Professor Rogers’ hand curl up in a fist, one corner of your lips rising in a smirk.</p><p>If you were to suffer, then so could he. It was a bold move, bratty even, one he might punish you for, but you were willing to take the risk, even feeling a tingle in your abdomen at the premise. Would he punish you? How? Were you in for some impatient manhandling today?</p><p>Caught up in your musings, you nearly jumped when his hot breath caressed your ear, a whispered promise causing air to get stuck in your throat, your heart speeding up insanely in your chest.</p><p>
  <em>“Patience. Once he’s gone I’m gonna bend you over this desk…”</em>
</p><p>Your eyes fluttered shut, your mind supplying you with a helpful visual. You could almost feel his hand stroking the back of your thighs, the curve of your ass over your skin-tight dress, your lower back and roughly pushing between your shoulder blades to trap you against the desk.</p><p>“…the German offensive to capture Stalingrad began in August 1942, using the 6th Army and elements of the 4th Panzer Army. The attack was supported by intense Luftwaffe bombing that reduced much of the city to rubble,” he continued the lecture as he straightened again, as if he hadn’t just vowed to get freaky with you.</p><p>His hand grazed the back of your chair, painfully close and still so far, moving to your other side, the heat of his body once again teasing you, his mouth an inch from your skin.</p><p>
  <em>“…and fuck you ‘till you can’t walk…”</em>
</p><p>Your breathing picked up, your mouth suddenly feeling dry, the urge to lick your lips stronger than you. You glanced in Professor Banks’ direction, but there was no way he could hear what his colleague was whispering to your ear, the filthy promises made in between lecturing you about one of the biggest and most important battles of WW II. How could Professor Rogers even <em>focus</em>-</p><p>“You certainly have to write <em>this </em>down, Miss Clark—November 19, the Red Army launched Operation Uranus, a two-pronged attack targeting the weaker Romanian and Hungarian armies protecting the 6th Army's flanks.”</p><p>
  <em>“… and ‘till the only thing you remember from this session is my name...”</em>
</p><p>You couldn’t even make out the words he spoke on normal volume anymore. Your fingers gripped the pen, the echo of sensations from the last week that had haunted you for <em>days</em> ghosting over your skin, your lips, your-</p><p>
  <em>“…and how good my cock feels in your cunt.” </em>
</p><p>As if on command, your core clenched around nothing, the desperate craving to relieve some of the gradually building desire causing your thighs to rub together on instinct, hoping to create <em>some</em> friction at least. You could imagine Professor Rogers’ pupils dilating at that, a cocky smirk playing on his lips as one simple sentence of yours backfired unexpectedly.</p><p>His lips actually brushed over the shell of your ear with his next words, making you suck in air in a sharp inhale.</p><p>
  <em>“You better get yourself ready, ‘cause I won’t waste any time with that.”</em>
</p><p>You blinked furiously at the statement, your head once again snapping to the other man in the room, who could turn to you any moment, catching you red-handed if you actually went through with it.</p><p>No way, no fucking w-</p><p>“Did I stutter, Miss Clark?” Professor Rogers hissed irritably and you dared to look at him, shocked to see a wolfish smile, a hungry glint in his eye that filled your stomach with butterflies, causing you to practically drip into the fabric of your dress.</p><p>“No, Professor Rogers,” you whispered obediently, your mind racing as you couldn’t make yourself to slip your hand under and just… listen to the command. “I understood.”</p><p>He held your gaze as he stepped to your right to partly shield you from view.</p><p><em>Be a good girl,</em> he mouthed, sending a pleasant shudder down your spine, your pussy weeping for him, something inside you begging for you to obey just so you could hear him say it out loud later.</p><p>“Then we shall continue. At the beginning of February 1943, the Axis forces in Stalingrad…”</p><p>You inhaled shakily, your hand trembling a little as you let it fall from the top of the table, landing on your leg instead, your thumb grazing the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh.</p><p>Professor Rogers’ eyebrows jumped a fraction, his chin motioning for you to go on, his eyes dark and lustful like a night.</p><p>Not daring to cast a single glance at the other man, because he would only make you lose your nerve, you moved your hand under the hem of your dress which was slightly below your mid-thigh, fingers trailing up until they reached the very high thigh-highs you were wearing.</p><p>“You seem to be forgetting to take notes, Miss Clark, my patience is truly wearing thin. Let’s move to another battle which was critical for the development of the war, the battle of Bulge…”</p><p>The words fell on deaf ears. All you could hear was the pounding of your own heart as your fingers slid right into the slickness pooled at your core; just like he had asked a week ago, there was nothing in the way, no underwear. You nearly whimpered when the tips of your fingers touched your opening, the barely-there contact blissful and yet torturous as you craved so much more.</p><p>You could feel his gaze on you, studying every quickened rise and fall of your chest, every single motion of the tendons in your forearm and thighs, flexing when your thumb circled your aching swollen clit, your eyes sliding shut at the tingle that ran through your nerve endings, your forefinger dipping into your cunt-</p><p>“Weren’t you supposed to study?”</p><p>A yelp ripped from your throat as you jumped in your seat and slapped the keyboard in fright, sending a line of random letters across the page.</p><p>“Jesus, Steve! Don’t do that!” you scolded him, the image of his office dissolving into thin air, your mind back to the present.</p><p>You were in Steve’s apartment, his head hovering two inches behind your shoulder as his eyes roamed the screen, reading your… fantasy in progress.</p><p>He barely paid any attention to your scolding, narrowing his eyes at something he saw on the screen, a brief smile flashing on his lips, while you were still trying to calm your startled heart. <em>Who the heck sneaks on people like that?!</em></p><p>Granted, this was his apartment he was graciously borrowing you since, occasionally, Penny’s new boyfriend made her pretty vocal and unwittingly caused your ability to focus to disappear completely, but <em>still.</em></p><p>You hadn’t even heard him enter the apartment, let alone walk behind you. Gee, one of these days you were going to get kidnapped and barely notice it. But you always got so sucked up into your writing, you couldn’t help it-!</p><p>“How long have you been-“ you demanded, but then thought better of it, deciding you didn’t even care. “-nevermind. I was supposed to and I have! <em>But</em> if I read one more line from that textbook, my head would have exploded!”</p><p>His hand absentmindedly landed on your shoulder farther from his figure to rub it comfortingly, his gaze still running over the lines you wrote and you fought the urge to just snap the laptop shut, feeling heat rising to your cheeks.</p><p>“So you decided to unwind this way?” he questioned, a hum rumbling deep in his throat as something caught his attention. <em>“God,</em> that dirty little mind of yours…”</p><p>With your face burning, you chewed on your lower lip, your hand twitching to close the document.</p><p>“Too much?” you asked sheepishly, turning your head an inch to check on his expression.</p><p>You never got the opportunity, because instead of an answer, he caught your lips with his in a hungry kiss, his tongue swiftly pushing past the seam of your lips, stealing breath from your lungs, consuming every rational thought and shame that could form in your brain.</p><p>
  <em>Well, hello to you too.</em>
</p><p>His fingers curled around your nape, tilting your head to side for better access and you swore that in between the dance your tongues and lips engaged in, a silent <em>hi </em>was whispered directly to your mouth. Your hands instinctively fell on his shoulders, your body angling for more comfort and contact with his. Seeing as his arm winded around your waist, he appreciated it, his warm hand slipping under your loose t-shirt, caressing the skin of your waist.</p><p>Your head spun as you melted into the touch, the desire already ignited by your fantasies now set aflame.</p><p>“Steve-“ you gasped in the second your lips parted for air and that was all you managed to say before he dived back in, grabbing your chair and turning it around, a full-body assault, chest to chest, hands under your thighs, hauling you up.</p><p>“You wanna turn off your brain for a bit, huh?” he hummed, his mouth moving to your neck, peppering open-mouthed kisses in places he knew made you putty in his hands and had you begging for more. “Gonna bend you over that table if that’s what you want, fuck you till you can’t walk and the only thing you remember is how my co-”</p><p>You let out a scandalized exclaim, not giving away just how your core grew wet hearing him <em>actually</em> say it. <em>Christ, yes please.</em></p><p>“Such language, Professor-“</p><p>He shut you up with another kiss, pressing your back against a wall by the window.</p><p>“Oh sweetheart, you’re the one who wrote down words like ‘cunt’, ‘cock’ and ‘fuck’ about ten times in the past half an hour or so, you don’t get to call me out…” A breathy whimper escaped your lips when his fingers slipped into your leggings and traced your weeping core, satisfied grunt vibrating in his chest. “Look at that, Christ, you’re soaking-“</p><p>“I--ah-“</p><p>His hand disappeared, making you whine, but his thigh wedged between your legs instead, fingers digging into your ass, encouraging you to brace yourself on his shoulders and undulate your hips.</p><p>“Next time you need some quality time with Professor Rogers – yes, that’s what you wrote, every single time, I noticed – you come to me…” He pulled you closer, flexing his thigh, his lips sucking on the sensitive spot on your neck and coaxing a needy moan from your parted lips. “Fuck, these pretty sounds you make. Let me make you feel so good that the only thing you can think of is my name, <em>Miss Clark.”</em></p><p>You only managed to breathe out ‘Yes, please, Professor Rogers,’ before he claimed your lips once again.</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>Partly sprawled over Steve’s chest, partly curled to his side, you basked in the warmth of his body, your hand on his stomach while his arm was wrapped around you, fingers stroking your bare arm in periodic motions. You knew it couldn’t possibly be that late, but it was so comfortable and warm and Steve had managed to spent you thoroughly, not to mention the hours you had been sitting over the textbook… you could fall asleep right and there.</p><p>For the past two and half months, you had been having the time of your life. Yes, you had a summer job to work full-time, Steve couldn’t spent every minute of your free time with you, because while he wasn’t teaching or tutoring at the moment, he still had duties towards the university, <em>and</em> Professor Odinson had emailed you about a back-to-school test to start the semester (what was this, elementary school?), <em>but</em> you still managed to be the lovesick couple trying to steal every minute.</p><p>Very touchy-feely, very much unable to keep your hands off of each other, and very… romantic at the same time. Steve would take you out a lot, systematically avoiding the areas closest to the university, but you weren’t actively trying to hide.</p><p>He was… perfect. Smart as hell, <em>obviously,</em> but also incredibly witty and funny and when the door closed behind the two of you, he would show you a very passionate and surprisingly sensitive side of him. You felt like you entered heaven despite the little things showing that he was only human, like his annoying habit to keep everything <em>way too tidy</em> and in order. He did not like surprises and changes of plans most of the time and he got quite a temper. Yet, while you practically lived with him only two months in your relationship, because juggling you and him and Penny and her new boyfriend in one apartment was a life hazard, you couldn’t be happier.</p><p>And you enjoyed this phase of your relationship thoroughly, there was no denying that.</p><p>However, as desperately as you clung to the picture perfect, the voice in the back of your mind was slyly whispering that the end was near – and if not the end, then a significant change for certain. Which was a terrifying thing, considering that you felt yourself falling harder for Steve every day.</p><p>You would both be back to school, which alone posed multiple challenges; either you would have to hide or be ready for the judgemental looks, you would most likely have less time for each other and the inevitable rise of stress levels would easily shatter your illusion. You knew that once your ‘secret’ was out, you would both have to face people telling you that whatever this thing was, it headed nowhere, that you weren’t right for each other, the whole dynamics was wrong to start with, and that it was better to end it sooner than later.</p><p>And you <em>hated it.</em></p><p>You could see how amazing Steve was, how out of your league; you didn’t need people to tell you. And if they kept bugging you about him being a professor and the age gap that felt non-existent, you could live with that.</p><p>You were more worried about what would people have to say to Steve and how he would deal with it.</p><p>“Sweetheart,” a whisper caressed your scalp, a soft kiss landing in your hair, “where’s your head at?”</p><p>You blinked your eyes open, not daring to glance up and meet his gaze.</p><p>You were just a normal student, nothing special, not particularly clever, not particularly pretty, and with a questionable hobby on top of that. How long could Steve resist their remarks before he would start to see they were right? It was all hormones and fresh love now, but soon…</p><p>“Just thinking,” you replied vaguely, stroking the trail of hair on his lower abdomen, planting a kiss where you could reach on his chest.</p><p>“I can see that,” he chuckled lightly, a gentle sound making your heart grow, your body instinctively gravitating closer to his, to his amiable aura offering comfort and safety. “What about though?”</p><p>You hesitated, not keen on voicing your concerns, happy to keep the illusion as long as you could. Right now, in the aftermath of fucking and lovemaking, you felt your stomach sink at the mere idea of bringing it up and ruining the atmosphere.</p><p>You hummed noncommittally and barely shook your head, closing your eyes again.</p><p>You could feel his body shifting before his hand slipped under your chin, tilting your head back to meet his gaze.</p><p>With a sigh, you looked into his sleep-misted eyes, radiating so much light that it could easily put the lamp on the nightstand to shame. <em>Christ,</em> he was so… <em>pretty.</em> Handsome, whatever. His lips curled up in a tiny smile against yours as he stretched to kiss you, his whiskers pleasantly scratching your skin, reviving memories of how they left a burn between your thighs earlier today.</p><p>Tears nearly gathered in your eyes at the tenderness of the kiss, coaxing, as if he could breathe in your thoughts through your mouth. <em>Fuck,</em> you didn’t want to lose this-</p><p>“What is it, sweetheart? What’s happening in that pretty head of yours?”</p><p>Unable to hold his gaze, you rather moved back to lie on his chest, watching the wall instead as if could ever me more interesting to look at than him.</p><p>“Do you… do you ever think less of me?” you whispered, voice so weak he probably had to strain his ears to hear it.</p><p>His relaxed form stiffened under you, the regular motions of his chest ceasing before he shifted some more, sliding from under you and propping up his elbow, obscuring your view with his broad torso. <em>Dammit</em>.</p><p>Also, what a fucking view. <em>Enjoy it while you still can.</em></p><p>“What are you talking about?” he asked instead of an answer, astonished and not in the good way. “What for?”</p><p>You shrugged, cursing the cushions that barely retained the warmth of his body. It was much more pleasant to lie directly on him…. Why didn’t you keep your mouth shut?</p><p>“Hey. Tell me. Why should I think less of you? What does that even mean?” he demanded and you dug your fingers to the covers as you sensed he was getting worked up.</p><p>Oh <em>god</em> please, you really didn’t want to fight now—or ever, obviously.</p><p>“Please don’t be mad.”</p><p>His shoulders slumped, his chest expanding once with a deep inhale and exhale, before his fingers threaded through your hair, tenderly pushing it from your face.</p><p>“I’m not,” he promised, wary of his tone this time. “But I don’t like seeing you upset-- and no, don’t tell me not to look then, smartass.”</p><p>The corners of your mouth twitched involuntarily as he read your mind easily. How was it possible that he knew you so well already?</p><p>“I like looking at you. You’re a beautiful woman, with heart of gold and a good head on her shoulders, who somehow fell into my lap,” he whispered, lightly tugging at your hair to make you look at him. <em>Charming bastard.</em> How could you resist him when he talked like that?</p><p>Worse; how could you ever come to terms with <em>losing him?</em></p><p>He frowned at the tears glistening in your eyes. “Did… did I ever make you feel like you’re anything but my equal?”</p><p>“No,” you blurted out instantly, “god, no…. I mean-- the whole student-professor dynamics in the bedroom we play at sometimes is… I enjoy that very much and I know it doesn’t define us as a couple. It’s not--Steve… you’re wonderful. I-“ <em>love you </em>“-I’ve never been happier with anyone.”</p><p>“Then what is the problem? Why do you think I could think any less of you, whatever that means?”</p><p>“Various reasons. I mean-- if we… when we-- when someone in school finds out about us-“</p><p>“Then they can shove their opinion where the sun doesn’t shine,” he said confidently, his gaze boring to yours with a flash of determination so powerful it might blind you. “You’re mine and I hope they get an aneurysm trying to figure out how I won over a girl like you.”</p><p>Despite the absurdity of the statement – because let’s be real here, Steve could have <em>anyone</em> he wanted as long as you were concerned – you found yourself smiling widely, lowering your gaze at the compliment.</p><p>“Even when she’s… writing those things?” you murmured, fingers fumbling with the hem of your covers, freezing when he chuckled quietly.</p><p>“Where is <em>this</em> even coming from?”</p><p>“Just… answer me, Steve? Please?”</p><p>It might seem ridiculous, but his opinion on that was important. On occasions, writing helped you deal with your emotions and you never asked him what he thought of that. How he would feel about anyone finding out – not that you planned on posting these things on the internet or something.</p><p>Steve sighed, pressing your shoulder to the mattress, hovering above you so should you avert his gaze again, you would only be offered the glorious sight of his face or chest.</p><p>It felt really, <em>really </em>good to be trapped under him. You glanced up at him, a smile playing in the corner of his lips, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, his worries apparently dispersed unlike yours. Despite that, his voice carried a weigh of severity, every word honest.</p><p>“I would think that what we did before you asked this- this <em>nonsensical</em> question, speaks for itself, but I can spell it out for you. I know how hard you studied today, for the past few days. I think that the fact you can sit down after that and write like this… is nothing short of amazing. <em>You</em> are amazing.”</p><p>You could practically feel your eyes widen as you were looking up at him, this beautiful demi-good watching you like you were the sun and the moon aligned, telling you that you were amazing. Your heart couldn’t possibly take it, thumping in the rhythm of ‘I love you’, the three words on the tip of your tongue.</p><p>What came out instead was the last worm of doubt that had been weighting your mind for a while.</p><p>“And you don’t… you don’t feel like I’m cheating on you, right? When writing that stuff? Because-”</p><p>His muscles gave out under the force of his bark of laughter, more of his weight pinning you down, his forehead resting against yours before he raised it again to look straight into your eyes, straight into your <em>soul.</em></p><p>“Sweetheart… <em>babygirl.</em> I know – <em>well,</em> I hope and assume from seeing my name typed out anyway – that you’re thinking about me when writing it. And I have no idea where this insecure streak came from, but I’ll have you know that I <em>adore,”</em> he emphasized the word, dropping a kiss to your forehead, causing your eyes flutter close at the tender gesture, “your quick… beautiful,” his lips brushed your closed eyelids, few tears escaping from under them, “witty,” a kiss landed on your nose, causing a giggle bubble in your chest, “and filthy mind.”</p><p>His lips captured yours, a deep, slow, sensual kiss that might have touched your very being and your hands blindly reached to cup his face, stroking his beard, sliding to his neck, to his chest, trying and failing to pour all of your emotions into a simple connection of lips.</p><p>Eternity could have happened outside your bubble and you wouldn’t notice. All that mattered was his body on yours, the feeling of his skin, of his mouth on yours, the rapid beat of his heart under your palm.</p><p>When he finally withdrew, your lips barely parted, sticking one to another as if not wanting to let go. His forehead once again touched yours, both of you simply breathing and coming back to earth after sharing a mind-blowing kiss.</p><p>“…Steve?” you whispered in a haze, but with startling clarity in your mind.</p><p>“Yeah, babygirl?” responded in a husky voice, his breath caressing your face, causing you to smile despite your nerves.</p><p>You opened your eyes, finding his own closed, a content smile spread on his own lips. He was simply <em>beautiful</em>. And maybe… just maybe, he was yours.</p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>Blue orbits suddenly stared into yours, almost glowing and oh, <em>oh so soft</em>, the pad of his thumb tracing your cheekbone.</p><p> “I love you too.”</p><p>His reply was simple, four words into which was fitted a thousand more. The clearest declaration of love. You heart sang, swelling in your chest, the cheesiest smile charmed on your lips, turning into a wide grin when Steve’s mouth latched onto yours, demanding and yet tender, worshipping as if you were something precious, something he couldn’t get enough of.</p><p>His hands started roaming your body as you clutched on his strong biceps, giggling when he unintentionally brushed a ticklish spot on your side, making you squirm under his firm body.</p><p>“We should take a shower, eat for a bit and go to sleep,” you muttered between the kisses, his beard scratchy on your face, on your neck, lips catching every inch of you they could reach, his nose caressing yours one moment, breathing in your shampoo the other, fingers tracing your curves, your breasts, your ass, your thighs, then suddenly cradling your face.</p><p>“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t get to say <em>I love you</em> for the first time and expect me to let you leave this bed,” he whispered to your lips, fingers of one hand moving between your legs, caressing the sensitive skin on your inner thigh and higher, the tell-tale of your arousal coating his fingertips. “But of course, if that bores you-“</p><p>You slapped his bicep half-heartedly and gave in, bucking your hips into his hand, arching your back to meet him hallway. “Shut it, Steven. And kiss me.”</p><p>“As you wish, <em>my love.”</em></p><p>And man, could you get used to hearing that.</p><p>Had you known that one simple e-mail with wrong attachment could lead to this, you would have done it a long time ago. But perhaps it happened exactly in the right moment, every other action that followed leading you precisely into now.</p><p>And in <em>now</em>, you refused to think about the future, sinking into the bliss of the present moment, your little piece of heaven on Earth, where sinning was nothing but beautiful.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! Looks like this is it! I might come back to this to drop in a random one-shot, but no promises – I told the story I wanted to tell.</p><p>Thank you for being here for it, sharing your thoughts, leaving kudos and generally being awesome ♥</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Words Read After the Lights-Out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Time apart is usually unpleasant and this time wasn’t as exception. With messed-up sleep schedule, Steve helps himself with one of your writing he knows you finished. Will it help him fall asleep?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings: smut, 18+, nsfw, semi-public masturbation, oral (fem receiving), PIV, hints of dom/sub, and fluff… and language (always)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve knew he had permission – a half-heartedly mumbled one, somewhere between consciousness and drifting to sleep, but still a permission –, yet he felt a bit dirty.</p><p>He had printed the pages few days ago before he left, knowing you finished the story for now named ‘the second encounter with Professor R’, morbidly curious, but hesitant to dive in. These were still <em>your </em>writings, your imaginations and they might have concerned him, but they were still very intimate. And he wasn’t just thinking sexual intimacy – it was simply something coming from the very depth of your mind and Steve honest to god didn’t want to invade your privacy.</p><p>However, he had asked if you’d mind if he read what you had written, and you said no. He had asked if he <em>could</em> read it then – and you said yeah.</p><p>Here. <em>Permission.</em> Clear as day. And you had left your laptop open, still logged in, as if in invitation. So he had downloaded it and printed it out.</p><p>And now he was watching you lying on your stomach, hugging the pillow that was very much on <em>his</em> side of the bed as if you wished you were cuddling him instead and Steve didn’t crave anything but sliding beside you and pulling you to his side.</p><p>The problem was that he had been to a conference on the other side of the country and he nodded off on the plane and not even the long shower made him relax properly. And the last thing he wanted was to wake you up, because the last time you Facetimed, you looked like you could sleep for a year.</p><p>Steve knew that the fact he had left you alone for the first time since the rumours started that you two were together and it was no surprise that facing the vultures without the possibility to find solace in each other’s arms was taking its toll on you – he wouldn’t like it either. You wouldn’t admit it to him; you kept the distress about it to yourself, not wanting to burden him. The bed was lonely without him, you had said instead, a claim no doubt true as well – and boy, could Steve relate to that.</p><p>So now he fished out the few pages and settled at the desk, only the dim light revealing your words to him, as if they were something that indeed should remain a secret.</p><p>Steve spent one more glance at your sleeping form, serene, your lips parted as you softly breathed into the pillow, eyes closed, eyelashes casting weak shadows over your cheeks with the little lamp on and Steve couldn’t stop the corners of his lips rising. You were beautiful and <em>his,</em> lying in his bed, practically begging for him to come and take you to his arms.</p><p>Steve promised himself that once he would finish reading, hopefully tire his eyes for a bit, he would do exactly that – falling into a blissful sleep with you in his embrace.</p><p>He should have known better, really. He should have known that your story would do everything but lull him to sleep.</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>Your pen was half-heartedly scribbling on the paper, your brain not quite registering the words coming from his mouth.</p><p>You weren’t prepared for a damn history lecture; mostly because when you knocked on the door of the professor’s office, you did not expected to find him <em>not</em> alone; his colleague, the grumpy old idiot, was sitting at his desk, making nots from a book which you probably wouldn’t even be able to lift with how thick it was.</p><p>Speaking of thick things… one was meant to be between your legs now, but no, the other prof just had to sit there third-wheeling and cock-blocking—<em>dammit.</em></p><p>Now here you were, sitting opposite to Professor Rogers at his desk, pretending to be taking notes while he kindly filled in your missing knowledge, talking about god knew what.</p><p>His voice was a balm to your ears, deep timbre echoing in your ribcage, stirring heat in your abdomen. His voice did things to you no matter what words he spoke and from what distance, but you much rather had him whispering filthy suggestions to your ear, teeth grazing your skin, praises for all the things you allowed him to do to you, with his fingers, with his tongue, with his-</p><p>“Miss Clark!” Professor Rogers snapped all of sudden, voice stern and minutely louder than before. Your head snapped to him at instant, meeting his intense glare and a raised eyebrow. “Do I need to remind you that you were the one who expressed a supposedly genuine endeavour to earn your credit? If you could take notes instead of…” he eyed your wannabe notes with the scepticism they deserved “-<em>doodling,</em> that would be splendid.”</p><p>The smirk on his lips gave him away as he met your gaze, rising from his seat pointedly.</p><p>“Yes, Professor Rogers,” you said meekly, speeding up the circles and other random motions with your hand. “I’m sorry. My mind wandered off, I got lost in your narrative. It won’t happen again.”</p><p>You were so full of shit, because the only thing you got lost in was your own imagination, unholy pictures filling your impatient brain. Professor Rogers certainly knew that too – but he kept the front up for his colleague who just couldn’t seem to leave the damn room if even for a minute.</p><p>“It better not,” Professor Roberts commented gruffly, circling the hardwood desk slowly, fingers tracing the top of what he was meant to be fucking you against shall your fantasy come true <em>any time soon.</em> You shifted in your seat, feeling slickness gathering between your lower lips in anticipation. “As I was saying, the battle of Stalingrad…”</p><p>A sudden thought struck you when he stood beside you; for the first time in the past hour, you actually wrote something down instead of drawing random patterns.</p><p>Professor Rogers looked over your shoulder, reading the line about Professor Banks being a pain in your ass and you going crazy with need for your tutor’s cock. Peripherally, you saw Professor Rogers’ hand curl up in a fist, one corner of your lips rising in a smirk.</p><p>If you were to suffer, then so could he. It was a bold move, bratty even, one he might punish you for, but you were willing to take the risk, even feeling a tingle in your abdomen at the premise. Would he punish you? How? Were you in for some impatient manhandling today?</p><p>Caught up in your musings, you nearly jumped when his hot breath caressed your ear, a whispered promise causing air to get stuck in your throat, your heart speeding up insanely in your chest.</p><p>
  <em>“Patience. Once he’s gone I’m gonna bend you over this desk…”</em>
</p><p>Your eyes fluttered shut, your mind supplying you with a helpful visual. You could almost feel his hand stroking the back of your thighs, the curve of your ass over your skin-tight dress, your lower back, and roughly pushing between your shoulder blades to trap you against the desk.</p><p>“…the German offensive to capture Stalingrad began in August 1942, using the 6th Army and elements of the 4th Panzer Army. The attack was supported by intense Luftwaffe bombing that reduced much of the city to rubble,” he continued the lecture as he straightened again, as if he hadn’t just vowed to get freaky with you.</p><p>His hand grazed the back of your chair, painfully close and still so far, moving to your other side, the heat of his body once again teasing you, his mouth an inch from your skin.</p><p>
  <em>“…and fuck you ‘till you can’t walk…”</em>
</p><p>Your breathing picked up, your mouth suddenly feeling dry, the urge to lick your lips stronger than you. You glanced in Professor Banks’ direction, but there was no way he could hear what his colleague was whispering to your ear, the filthy promises made in between lecturing you about one of the biggest and most important battles of WW II. How could Professor Rogers even <em>focus</em>-</p><p>“You certainly have to write <em>this </em>down, Miss Clark—November 19, the Red Army launched Operation Uranus, a two-pronged attack targeting the weaker Romanian and Hungarian armies protecting the 6th Army's flanks.”</p><p>
  <em>“… and ‘till the only thing you remember from this session is my name...”</em>
</p><p>You couldn’t even make out the words he spoke on normal volume anymore. Your fingers gripped the pen, the echo of sensations from the last week that had haunted you for <em>days</em> ghosting over your skin, your lips, your-</p><p>
  <em>“…and how good my cock feels in your cunt.” </em>
</p><p>As if on command, your core clenched around nothing, the desperate craving to relieve some of the gradually building desire causing your thighs to rub together on instinct, hoping to create <em>some</em> friction at least. You could imagine Professor Rogers’ pupils dilating at that, a cocky smirk playing on his lips as one simple sentence of yours backfired unexpectedly.</p><p>His lips actually brushed over the shell of your ear with his next words, making you suck in air in a sharp inhale.</p><p>
  <em>“You better get yourself ready, ‘cause I won’t waste any time with that.”</em>
</p><p>You blinked furiously at the statement, your head once again snapping to the other man in the room, who could turn to you any moment, catching you red-handed if you actually went through with it.</p><p>No way, no fucking w-</p><p>“Did I stutter, Miss Clark?” Professor Rogers hissed irritably and you dared to look at him, shocked to see a wolfish smile, a hungry glint in his eye that filled your stomach with butterflies, causing you to practically drip into the fabric of your dress.</p><p>“No, Professor Rogers,” you whispered obediently, your mind racing as you couldn’t make yourself to slip your hand under and just… listen to the command. “I understood.”</p><p>He held your gaze as he stepped to your right to partly shield you from view.</p><p><em>Be a good girl,</em> he mouthed, sending a pleasant shudder down your spine, your pussy weeping for him, something inside you begging for you to obey just so you could hear him say it out loud later.</p><p>“Then we shall continue. At the beginning of February 1943, the Axis forces in Stalingrad…”</p><p>You inhaled shakily, your hand trembling a little as you let it fall from the top of the table, landing on your leg instead, your thumb grazing the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh.</p><p>Professor Rogers’ eyebrows jumped a fraction, his chin motioning for you to go on, his eyes dark and lustful like a night.</p><p>Not daring to cast a single glance at the other man, because he would only make you lose your nerve, you moved your hand under the hem of your dress which was slightly below your mid-thigh, fingers trailing up until they reached the very high thigh-highs you were wearing.</p><p>“You seem to be forgetting to take notes, Miss Clark, my patience is truly wearing thin. Let’s move to another battle which was critical for the development of the war, the battle of Bulge…”</p><p>The words fell on deaf ears. All you could hear was the pounding of your own heart as your fingers slid right into the slickness pooled at your core; just like he had asked a week ago, there was nothing in the way, no underwear. You nearly whimpered when the tips of your fingers touched your opening, the barely-there contact blissful and yet torturous as you craved so much more.</p><p>You could feel his gaze on you, studying every quickened rise and fall of your chest, every single motion of the tendons in your forearm and thighs, flexing when your thumb circled your aching swollen clit, your eyes sliding shut at the tingle that ran through your nerve endings, your forefinger dipping into your cunt. You bit on your lip to stop yourself from releasing the whimper threatening to spill from your lips.</p><p>His stupid talk, momentarily empty promises, his voice on your ear, his lips brushing your skin, the light pressure on your clit, the finger moving slowly inside you— it all felt amazing, way too good considering that you <em>knew</em> you weren’t alone, but by God, did it add a tiny bit of a thrill, causing your heart to flutter, your core to burn.</p><p>You could still hear Professor Rogers talking, not one of his words registering until his fingertip grazed your collarbone, a breath of <em>‘such a good girl’</em> caressing your ear. You gulped, feeling your pussy clench, a shudder running down your spine.</p><p>
  <em>“Go on, make yourself feel good. Add another.”</em>
</p><p>You had no idea how he knew what you were doing under the fabric, but he retreated again, to talk armies and bloodshed and all you could think off was being the good girl he had proclaimed you, worrying your teeth over your lips strongly enough to draw blood almost, third finger slipping into your heat. Your eyes fluttered open at the sensation, gaze stubbornly fixing on Professor Rogers’ chair, your breathing shallow and quick as you felt the pressure building.</p><p>Your mind was turning hazy as you tried to comprehend whether you liked the presence of the unsuspecting professor or were ashamed doing this while he was <em>right there.</em> You massaged your inner walls slowly, carefully despite how much you needed the release at this point, barely moving in or out in the fright of making noise. Your head spun, your thighs trembling softly with your climax nearing, the pleasure on horizon setting your blood on fire.</p><p>And then there was a pinch to your shoulder, nearly making you yelp in surprise—but somehow, even in the fog your brain was in, you understood that it was an order to stop and your hand instantly disappeared, curling into a fist on your thigh.</p><p>You tried your best to stop the shaking, to ignore the slickness on your fingers, now hopefully hidden in your palm and not on display – and peripherally, you could see Professor Banks rise to his feet, picking up items from his desk.</p><p>Your heart was beating its way out of your chest, air caught in your lungs as you attempted to calm yourself <em>just in case</em> he would look at you. As if your sex wasn’t practically pulsing because of the abrupt neglect, so so close to the release you craved.</p><p>In a sudden clarity of mind, you swiftly took fresh paper and set in on top of your ‘notes’ and gripped the pen again, seemingly ready to continue writing down important dates and names. You heard Banks steps nearing and you instinctively looked up. You had no idea what face you made, because you had zero control over your mimic muscles, too busy trying not to spontaneously combust.</p><p>Whatever he read from your expression, it made him eye his colleague.</p><p>“Don’t keep her for much longer, Steven. I’m sure she deserves some fun today too,” the older professor remarked, shooting you an uncharacteristic smile and walked out of the office, his old-fashioned leather case swinging. Professor Rogers’ <em>‘Don’t worry, Bradley,’ </em>followed him and finally, the door clicked shut behind him, allowing you to release an exhale.</p><p>“He has no fucking idea,” you muttered, tossing the damn pen aside, running a hand down your face, while your other one remained curled up in a tight fist.</p><p>“Shut you dirty mouth, babygirl,” Professor Rogers hissed, crossing the distance to the door in few long strides, glancing at Banks’ desk to make sure that the man hadn’t forgotten anything he could come back for, and only then locked.</p><p>The next thing you knew, you were on your feet, the edge of the hardwood desk digging into your ass, your wrists pinned by his hands.</p><p>Your breath was stolen by his mouth, lips taking yours, warm, sweet, soft and demanding, a hungry kiss that had no end, one of your wrists suddenly free as his fingers curled around your nape, tangling in your hair, pushing and pulling, just to get more of you. You submitted easily, gratefully even, blissed out at the feeling of his tongue exploring your mouth, taking everything he wanted.</p><p>You gasped for air when he withdrew, his forehead resting against yours for a split moment, his touch on you almost tender now, more so when he brought your wrist to his mouth and left a brief kiss on your knuckles, inhaling deeply, causing your face heat up.</p><p>“So obedient, such good girl,” he whispered in a husky voice, thick with arousal, and you could swear you were about to burst. “Sweet, sweet girl.”</p><p>You were caught between embarrassed and aroused when he pried your fingers open, his tongue tasting your drying juices. Your core clenched in need and as if he could feel it, his hips rutted into yours, his own excitement evident as his cock poked your lower stomach, his mouth once again on yours, your hand trapped between your bodies, his fingers gripping your sides tightly.</p><p>“I promised you something, didn’t I?” he mumbled to your mouth.</p><p>Recalling just what a vow he had made you with the other man still present, you gladly let him spin you around, manoeuvre you to press your front to his desk with no regard for the notes scattered over it. You instantly missed the warmth of his body, but his hands went to knead the flash of your ass, one sliding to your lower back, the other hiking up your dress.</p><p>A groan escaped him at the sight of you bared for him, his foot nudging yours apart, his grip on you tightening, fingers digging into your flesh enough to bruise before they slid lower, dipping into your slickness. His fingertips spread it, circling your clit, nearly causing your knees to buckle at the shot of bliss sent through your veins. A pathetic mewl fell from your lips and you could only imagine the indulgent smile on his face.</p><p>“God, look at you, so pretty, so ready for me,” he praised, fingers tracing the lace of your thigh-highs. “I really like these. Good choice…. Hold on tight, babygirl.”</p><p>You wasted no time and listened to him, grabbing the edge of the desk as his touch disappeared. You closed your eyes, anticipation building when you heard the tell-tale of him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants.</p><p>You couldn’t wait to feel him inside you again and as wrong or right as it was, you couldn’t help yourself, <em>missing him</em>. You knew things weren’t as simple as they could be seen – you noticed the little things, unnecessary tenderness peeking through, showing you that you were more than just a mindless fuck.</p><p>His warm palms spread your cheeks almost lovingly, slightly guiding you up so you stood on your tiptoes, bracing on the hardwood desk, so close to beg for him to finally fill you up, so con-</p><p>“Oh my-“ you cried out, your thighs clenching when instead of his hard cock nudging your slit, a velvety-soft warmth licked at your opening, eager and hungry, wasting no time and opening you further, the tip of his tongue pushing in, his lips sucking every drop you offered. Blood rushed to your head and to your centre, fingertips tingling, your most sensitive parts feeling like on fire. His beard was a stark contrast to the softness of his tongue, rough sensation making you dizzy. “Prof-“</p><p>His fingers applied pressure on your clit again, the circling motions making your head spin, your thighs shake again with the intensity of the approaching orgasm as professor Rogers fucked you with his tongue relentlessly, reaching even deeper, flicking his tongue and driving you absolutely crazy with pleasure.</p><p>A cry ripped from your throat as your climax shook your whole world, knees giving out, your fingers weakly clutching at the edge of the desk, your body slack against the wood. And he didn’t stop. He helped you ride it out with vigour, humming against your cunt, sending aftershocks through your veins. Only when he stopped, you felt you could finally breathe— his mouth moved just a fraction, a sting on your inner thigh as he sucked a mark of possession, one he kissed afterwards; even in your haze, a soft warmth enveloped your heart. <em>Not a mindless fuck.</em></p><p>“Sorry sweetheart, I couldn’t help myself…” he muttered to your skin, stroking, squeezing, kissing, moving up and whispering to your hair. Did he just apologize…? “You’re even sweeter than I hoped.”</p><p>Your heart fluttered, your hand blindly finding his as it still clutched on your waist. He didn’t retreat, gently squeezing back, knocking the breath out of you when he simultaneously entered you, his whole length in one swift motion, sinking so easily into your weeping cunt.</p><p>Professor Rogers moaned as you gasped, your core instinctively clenching around him.</p><p>“So tight… so good-“</p><p>His hands moved to your hips, his cock driving in and out, slowly at first, letting you feel every inch, his thick member stretching you pleasantly after such delicious preparation.</p><p>“Professor Rogers,” you gasped when he hit the right spot, his grip tightening.</p><p>“That it, babygirl?” he teased, purposely changing the angle, barely brushing your g-spot with his next thrust. You couldn’t help the mewl of frustration, attempting to shift and help yourself, only to meet with the steely hold he had on you. “Ah-ah, none of that, babygirl… you want more? Want me to make good on my promise?”</p><p>You really wanted to sneer at him, to snap, but—God, he moved so <em>right</em> the next moment, giving you another taste of the delicious sensation and you nodded fiercely, only for him to still in his movements, thumbs drawing a circle on your skin.</p><p>“Yes,” you voiced your request then, earning a satisfied hum and a tap of his fingers. <em>Words are good, now do better,</em> you almost heard him say and you clenched your jaw in frustration. For God’s sake- <em>“Yes, please.”</em></p><p>“Please what?” he urged you as he rolled his hips lazily, dragging his cock alongside your walls so painfully <em>slow.</em></p><p>You sighed, rocking yours hips just a bit – vainly, again.</p><p>“Please, fuck me against the desk… Professor Rogers.”</p><p>It worked like a charm, a kiss landing between your clothed shoulder blades.</p><p>“Good girl,” he hummed, the praise giving you as much joy as it did to him, apparently. “Brace yourself, sweetheart, I’m not holding back on you. I waited long enough…”</p><p>And that he did; the lecture had been a torture until it changed into a different kind of-</p><p>The half-unpleasant memory vanished from your mind, quickly replaced by the sensation of his length filling you up again, and again, again, speeding up, angling his hips so he finally hit the spot you craved to have stimulated, driving in and out with force that made you see stars, sharp gasps escaping your lips with each thrust.</p><p>You clutched at the table, unable to hold still, trying to meet him halfway, adding to the pleasure that had tears gathering behind your closed eyelids.</p><p>“Shit, I’m gonna-“ he groaned and freed one of his hands in favour to take you with him, playing with your clit and making you moan his name as the coil in your abdomen snapped again, causing you clench around him. It tipped him over the edge and you felt him spill into you, some of his seed tickling your opening as he rode his climax out.</p><p>You were both breathing heavily as his body laid over yours, the sweat gathering on your forehead and back be damned. You melted into the comfort his weight offered, pleasantly surprised when one of his hands found yours, still on the edge of the desk, fingers interlacing, a wet sloppy kiss landing on the side of your neck.</p><p>You could feel him soften inside you, a new sensation that felt strangely intimate, and yet he stayed a little longer.</p><p>“Stay right here, babygirl,” he rasped out, the warmth of him disappearing as he stood up fully and pulled out.</p><p>You obeyed despite not being sure what was about to happen… your first thought was a photo and you weren’t sure how you felt about <em>that.</em></p><p>However, your first thought was wrong.</p><p>You heard rustle as he pulled out a wet-wipe, a sharp exhale following – warming it up, you realized later – and then he carefully cleaned you up, soft and wary of how sensitive you were, his mission ending with a brief kiss on the spot where the bitemark was probably already blooming.</p><p>“You can get up,” he encouraged you, standing by your side, hands hovering as if ready to catch you.</p><p><em>Now</em> your head spun for a whole different reason. What the hell was happening? What was he doing? What did this mean? You weren’t about to complain in the slightest, but… <em>what.</em></p><p>Professor Rogers was observing you wordlessly, intense gaze you couldn’t hope to understand and you couldn’t help the shame warming up your cheeks, <em>knowing</em> that even with waterproof mascara and quality lipstick, you were far from looking perfect – and still, he appeared to be feasting his eyes on you.</p><p>Before you could try and fix it, he caught your hand halfway to your face, planting a kiss on your wrist and reaching for another tissue, taking care of it himself.</p><p>You were rendered speechless, eyes wide, lips parted as his own spread in a gentle smile, gaze almost <em>fond</em> as his thumb caressed your cheek.</p><p>“Pretty girl,” was all he said, a kiss landing on your forehead, causing your breath to hitch, your eyelashes fluttering as you blinked several times, unable to comprehend.</p><p>You were too stunned to say a single word, frozen on spot and yet you could feel your bones melting under his gaze, still unwavering, focused, boring into yours.</p><p>Neither of you made an attempt to move – neither of your reached for your handbag so you could be on your way. You just stood there in silence, lost in how incredibly handsome, <em>beautiful</em> he was up-close, finally having time to fully appreciate it – and with the softness of his features, you felt yourself fall for him, caught in the safety net of his kind eyes.</p><p>Your mouth opened uselessly and the pad of thumb moved to run over your lips, ending up in the corner of your mouth, raising it in a lopsided smile.</p><p>“You called me my first name,” he whispered, effectively bursting your blissful bubble and invading it with horror.</p><p>Oh god, you had? When—oh. <em>Oh.</em> Now you recalled it, a <em>tiny bit</em> horrified that you actually called him ‘Steve’ when reaching your peak.</p><p>“I’m sor-“</p><p>He shook his head and before you could finish, he pulled you in for another kiss, slow, deep and meaningful, his arm curling around your waist as if he couldn’t get you close enough and once again, you weren’t about to complain, placing one palm on his shoulder, the other on the side of his neck instead.</p><p>“I liked it,” he breathed to your mouth, pecking your lips once more before releasing you. “I’ll see you next week, Miss Clark.”</p><p>You nodded automatically, still stunned by the whole turn of events and accepted the handbag he gently handed you.</p><p>“…thanks,” you muttered and let him lead you out of the office.</p><p>When he unlocked the door, you readjusted your dress, making sure that in any normal circumstances people could see the lack of your underwear; what a reminder of Professor Rogers – Steve – being no less kinky than the first time, no matter how his demeanour now. You glanced at his face again and lost all remnants of sanity.</p><p>You placed your hand on his broad impressive bicep and dropped a light kiss on his cheek, enjoying the tickle of his beard once more.</p><p>“I’ll see you,” you echoed his words, meeting his twinkling eyes before walking out of the door.</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>Steve had to blink several times as he finished reading, trying to get a grasp on reality again, the words and images still swimming in front of his eyes. He needed few moments to process what he just read for more than one reason; he certainly didn’t feel sleepy as he had naively hoped.</p><p>He found the story hot, yeah, he wasn’t kidding himself, he was rock hard and aching, but what took him aback greatly and rendered him speechless was the sentiment. The shift in the relationship, the parts of <em>Steve </em>you got to know that you had implemented into the story with ease, the story in which ‘Miss Clark’ was surprised by the professor’s affection.</p><p>Steve read in the words the same astonishment and tender awe he saw in your eyes when you first exchanged ‘I love you’, after he had read the very start of this story for the first time and told you that he loved your mind as well.</p><p>Even when he glanced at your form now, so tempting in his bed, practically begging for him to satiate the hunger that your words spurred, it was impossible to ignore the warmth in his chest, his heart suddenly feeling too big for his ribcage.</p><p>Delicately placing the pages down, he turned off the lamp and carefully made his way to you, the mattress dipping under his weight, the motion drawing an adorable but barely audible whimper from you. Steve smiled for himself and slid beside you, curling his arms around your form and pulling you to his chest as much as he could without poking you with his hard-on, having decided to ignore it until it went away. He just-- honestly, he wouldn’t say <em>no,</em> but just holding you would suffice tonight.</p><p>You melted into his body so trustingly and naturally it made his heart ache and sing at the same time—<em>God,</em> he loved you. Then, as your mind registered that he was <em>technically</em> not supposed to be there, your form stiffened before pressing into him further, curling in his embrace, allowing him to nuzzle his nose in your hair.</p><p>“Hi,” you greeted him sleepily, but no less sweetly.</p><p>Steve dropped a kiss to the back of your head, his smile widening. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m okay, I’m glad to be home and you can go back to sleep.”</p><p>“Mm-mm, thanks for the report.”</p><p>You turned your head to catch his lips in a welcome kiss, one Steve wouldn’t refuse in a million years; sleepy, a bit sloppy, but one that tasted like home. <em>Yours.</em> And with both of you smiling into it.</p><p>“Welcome back. I missed you.”</p><p>He brushed the strand of your hair from your face, kissing you once more at your admission.</p><p>“Missed you more.”</p><p>Your grin only widened when you rolled over to him fully, tangling your limbs with his and accidently – possibly on purpose – brushing his erection with your thigh. He hissed despite himself and he would <em>swear</em> he could see a glint of mischief in your eyes despite the lack of light in the room.</p><p>“Oh, I see how it is, you <em>missed me,”</em> you giggled adorably and Steve couldn’t bring himself to be exasperated at you breaking the magic of the moment. And he certainly didn’t feel like telling you what exactly got him into this state – at least not now.</p><p>“Not just like <em>that,”</em> he grumbled and you giggled once more, finding his lips with yours, your hand surprisingly moving to rest on his chest, right over his heart, rather than heading down his torso.</p><p>“I’m hopeful,” you whispered, looking up at him from under your eyelashes and even in the dark, Steve felt his heart stutter. <em>God, </em>you were beautiful. Breath-taking.<em> His. </em>“But we should take care of this.”</p><p>Your hand slid considerably lower, giving some attention to his aching hard-on, softly curling your fingers around it and stroking and his resolve was slowly – <em>very quickly –</em> turning non-existent.</p><p>“I didn’t want to wake you at all. You need to sleep-“ he tried out weakly and you eyed him again, kissing his sternum, still smiling.</p><p>“Don’t feel sleepy. And I missed you too. In all the ways possible. I want to feel you, Steve.”</p><p>And fuck, he was lost. To your hands, to your lips, to your voice – when did it grow so sultry? –, to the smell of your shampoo and bodywash and your skin and to your damn face he couldn’t even see properly.</p><p>“Hey,” he mumbled in a spur of the moment, catching your hand to still your delicate strokes before they clouded his mind completely.</p><p>You blinked in an understandable surprise; but he had an important thing to say, simultaneously making a mental note to emphasize it again when telling you he read the second story too.</p><p>“Wha-“</p><p>“I truly missed you, sweetheart. I love you.”</p><p>Your surprise melted into something much softer and Steve couldn’t but meet your lips again, catching a glimpse of that same awe he marvelled at when reading. Your fingers in his hair were an epitome of bliss as you kissed him back with care.</p><p>“I love you too, Steve. So much…” you vowed and then there were no more words needed.</p><p>Steve devoured your lips, your body, revelling in every soft sigh of his name. And soon worn out after you both tipped over the edge, you fell asleep, tucked under the covers in his arms, the pair of you finally sleeping soundly again after being apart.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading :-*</p><p>I felt like I owed it to you, to them and to myself after the story she was writing didn’t get to be read (Steve caught her writing it). I hope you enjoyed :)</p><p>I’m thinking one more one-shot, maybe, will see how it goes :))</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Hurtful Words (part 1)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>Stick and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.</i>
</p><p>You knew for a fact that it was a load of BS. The truth is that words can break your heart. And that realization hits you full force the day you have your last exam to earn your bachelor degree.</p><p>If you pass, it will be a cause for great celebration. Spoiler alert: it’s not.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>Warnings:</b> I did something in here which I’m usually trying to avoid at any cost; in this story, I used Y/N Y/L/N. Does that count as a warning? </p><p><b>Warnings II:</b> name calling, humiliation, panic attack!, bad poetry, mentions of vomiting and alcohol, the briefest mention of self-harm, angst, swearing, threats of violence</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You released the breath you had been holding, all your willpower put into not sinking into the chair in relief as Professor Phillips announced your grade – one that meant that you <em>hadn’t</em> <em>failed.</em></p><p>In fact, you had just passed your last exam of your bachelor program so you were entirely in the right. In your head, an overexcited monkey started playing cymbals and you didn’t mind the noise despite how sleep-deprived you were from the past few days. A barely contained mad smile fought its way to your lips instead.</p><p>Mind you, as you thanked Professor Phillips and rose to your feet – your knees almost giving out, because <em>HOLY SHIT YOU JUST GOT YOUR BACHELOR’S – </em>you would swear you saw a brief smile on the professor’s face too as if he was amused at your antics.</p><p>But who cared if he was having fun at your expense?! You PASSED! You had been losing sleep, terrified of this exam, because everyone knew Phillips was a hard-ass – a fair one, but still a hard-ass – and you just passed his examination!</p><p>Time to pop the fucking champagne! The one Penny had been saving at the dorm from yesterday when she had finished her own degree; she insisted that she would wait for you, because you were in this together.</p><p>You couldn’t leave her waiting any longer and you didn’t have any intention to do so.</p><p>Leaving the room and walking into the empty hallway – because <em>of course</em> you came the last as if to prolong your torture – you breathed in and out and deliberately let the grin finally spread on your face fully.</p><p>You were free, you were ready to take on the world despite not being ready at all and you had Steve, who you suspected would be proud as hell and would celebrate with you tomorrow, graciously letting you and your roomie do it first-- and gosh, life was <em>beautiful.</em></p><p>Making your way down the corridor, with a grin ever-present, a leaflet that hadn’t been there before caught your attention. It appeared a handwritten note, styled in a regular column – a poem perhaps.</p><p>Still smiling, the curiosity took the best of you and you walked to it, peripherally noticing that along the walls, there was even more.</p><p>You froze in your step when your gaze fell on the first line; your very own name was staring back at you and it confused you at first, a brief surge of excitement lighting up your body, a naïve belief that perhaps Steve somehow decided to surprise you.</p><p>But Steve’s last name came next, which you found strange.</p><p>And then came the word ‘whore’ and your heart stopped, your gaze automatically flickering all over the page.</p><p>Your stomach made a painful somersault, your mind turning blank.</p><p>You couldn’t take your eyes off of that nightmare materializing in front of you, reading and re-reading the poem that almost resembled a twisted nursery rhyme over and over.</p><p>
  <em>Y/N Y/L/N<br/>
Rogers’ whore<br/>
Bet she’ll get<br/>
The highest score<br/>
For sucking dick<br/>
Having fucked her ass<br/>
Let’s hope she’ll soon<br/>
Be eating grass</em>
</p><p>Darkness battled to cut off your vision, the world swaying off of its place. Involuntarily, your trembling hand reached out and touched the paper, smooth under your fingertips, your frantically beating heart and the vertigo threating to overpower your sense of balance tying you to the reality, screaming at you that this wasn’t just a really fucked-up dream.</p><p>You tore the paper down, lump growing in your throat as you looked around for watchful eyes in sudden paranoia of being followed, only to find the hallway deserted aside from you.</p><p>Just you and many papers hanging on the walls.</p><p>As if you were just a puppet to a spiteful master, your feet carried you to the next leaflet, tears filling your eyes as you found the very same words written on it; a precise copy.</p><p>Your breathing picked up a furious pace, your chest crushed under a weight of an invisible elephant stomping on it. The corridor swam in the dampness of your eyes, your mind too quiet and yet screaming with millions of question marks and exclamation points, panic squeezing your lungs, nausea attacking your stomach.</p><p>What the hell was happening? Who would do that? Why? What was the goal? Was it just to ruin your triumph?</p><p>Because if <em>that</em> was the goal, it was a roaring success; the thousands of questions swirling in your head and the unexpected sting in your heart turned the fact that you had passed an exam into a faint memory.</p><p>All you saw was the words.</p><p>
  <em>Rogers’s whore</em>
</p><p>Was that what you were? Was that how people who knew about the relationship saw you? Was that how <em>Steve</em> saw you?</p><p>
  <em>The highest score for sucking dick</em>
</p><p>Was that what you were doing? Using Steve’s position to your advantage? Was that how you got through every exam including the one today, even if unwittingly? Was that what Phillips’ little smile had been about?</p><p>
  <em>Hope she’ll soon be eating grass.</em>
</p><p>Was that a threat? Was someone wishing that happened to you or were they actually about to hurt you? <em>Why?!</em></p><p>Hearing your own wheezing and feeling your fingertips prickling, your foggy mind did the only reasonable thing it could come up with; it led your steps into the nearest bathroom at lightning speed with no regard for how shaky were your feet.</p><p>You stumbled into the open stall, smashing the door shut and leaning onto them with your suddenly damp forehead, feeling the cold beads of sweat gather in your hairline, your cheeks drenching in tears.</p><p>When did you start crying so hard?</p><p>When did the trembling in your limbs begin?</p><p>What the <em>fuck</em> was happening?</p><p>What-how--why-but-</p><p>Your palms rested on the door as you desperately tried and failed to ground yourself and take control of your breathing. Your temples were pounding irritatingly, your gut painfully clenching--- and exactly in that moment that could have lasted a second or an hour, your fingers brushed over a piece of paper stuck on the door.</p><p>Darkness curled around your brain like a treacherous friend, another wave of nausea twisting your stomach.</p><p>It took you one blurry glance at the paper and you knew precisely what it was, choking on your sob, ripping the offensive poem off and tearing it to pieces which you blindly threw to the toilet, the flushing sound deafening to your ears.</p><p>Your shaky legs finally gave out, knees buckling, your body sliding down the stall wall, fingers pulling at your hair as you felt the dizziness engulfing your head, a bitter taste in your mouth.</p><p>You gripped tighter, hoping that the pain on the surface would overpower the pain and gaping hole inside, as another violent sob erupted from your throat.</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>An eternity later, you felt your whole being float.</p><p>Your breathing was still frantic and interrupted with sobs, but a sensation resembling serenity spread in your very core—or perhaps it was just numbness?</p><p>You couldn’t seem to be able to tell the difference anymore.</p><p>The creak of a door made you cover your mouth to muffle the noises still escaping your lips for the fear of being caught – either being found in this state in general or <em>found</em> as in found by the person who wrote---<em>that – </em>being stronger than the subdued power of your previous breakdown.</p><p>It was probably too late for the newcomer to miss your presence, but over the slowly fading ringing in your ears, you could hear a few steps that came to a halt and then they sounded a bit quicker as the woman left.</p><p><em>Thank FUCK.</em> You couldn’t do human interaction of any kind right now.</p><p>You removed your hand and breathed out shakily, blinking away the tears.</p><p>Shaking your head wildly, you gritted your teeth in a feeble attempt at bolster yourself. You had to get up off your ass and leave before there would be no longer way of avoiding a confrontation – god forbid a confrontation with <em>Steve,</em> who was probably still in a class, testing his own students.</p><p>You climbed to your feet, wiping the remains of your tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand and went to fix your ruined make-up, hopefully enough to look little less suspicious when walking through the campus.</p><p>It was probably a vain effort, because you were a walking epitome of a mess.</p><p><em>Rogers’s whore,</em> sounded in your ears and you shook your head again, inhaling sharply through your mouth.</p><p>It was time to run and <em>then</em> break down again at the dorms. With Penny preferably--or did she think you were a whore too? You <em>were</em> fucking a professor after all-</p><p>
  <em>Stop that!</em>
</p><p>Penny wasn’t like that. She understood. She’d be willing to listen all about this outrageous act of terror and would sympathize. Right?</p><p>Yeah, you’d talk about it with Penny, your amazing friend, who needed a celebration and a very generous amount of alcohol, which happened to be exactly what you needed too.</p><p>Yep, that sounded pretty good.</p><p>With one last determined glance on your horrible reflection in the mirror, you headed out.</p><p>The door nearly hit you in the face on its way back as you threw it open and froze in the doorway.</p><p>You did <em>not</em> expect to see someone so soon after leaving your improvised safe space… let alone <em>him.</em></p><p>“Prof-professor Wilson,” you choked out, clearing your scratchy throat as he stood there, unmistakably waiting for <em>you</em>.</p><p>Because that was what you needed at the moment. The university counsellor and professor of psychology in one person.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p><p>He said you name in a mild tone, almost as if trying to tame a wild animal, but not quite – all his voice made you feel was shame at getting caught<em>.</em> And a bit of anger at the whole fucking world, because why couldn’t you have a tiny piece of peace after seeing <em>that? </em>Just a little shred of luck, huh?!</p><p>Oh, right, you were a whore who were only using Professor Rogers, paying for it in sexual favours.</p><p>“Mind if we talk in my office for a bit?”</p><p>“Not like I really have a choice…” you mumbled automatically, the realization of how rude it sounded dawning to you oh too slowly, your brain too tangled up in a web of self-pity and self-loathing. “Sorry. Of course. Lead the way.”</p><p>“Good. Thank you,” he replied, appearing unoffended. “And for the record, you do have a choice.”</p><p>Hadn’t you been a wreck with burning tear-stained cheeks, your face might have felt hotter at the kind remark.</p><p>At the slowest pace possible, you followed Professor Wilson to his office, dread and exhaustion filling every fibre of your being.</p><p>You noticed however that the walls that had been lined with odes about you, put up for everyone to see, had disappeared; possibly Wilson’s own work.</p><p>Somehow, it didn’t make you feel much better, the image of the previous addition to the corridors’ decor stuck in your brain. But hey, it was supposed to be the thought that counted, right?</p><p>And Professor Wilson was a nice guy. He offered you a drink – sadly a non-alcoholic one – attempted a joke saying that no, it was no trouble getting you one, which was the reason he offered.</p><p>Generally, he treated you as if <em>he</em> wanted to provide you with a safe space.</p><p>And then he kindly told you that he knew about the poem, because his cousin who’s in her first year here at the uni, texted him what the heck was the e-mail she received on her uni account about.</p><p>In other word, he gently broke to you that whoever had done this possibly sent it to every student in the database too.</p><p>You nearly threw up hearing that; the pit you had climbed up from and of which edge you were balancing, deepened. But you didn’t fall back there.</p><p>Yet.</p><p>It was probably because you were still too shocked at the information.</p><p>“I hate asking that question, but do you have any idea who did this?” Wilson asked quietly and you had nothing but a helpless shake of a head for a reply. You felt your vision blurring, dizziness fogging your brain again. “Can you think of anyone who holds a grudge against you for some reason?”</p><p>A scoff escaped your lips, cynical as you found the answer obvious from the verses.</p><p>“Besides dating Steve, you mean?” you noted sarcastically. Wilson waited for more, his eyebrows twitching in surprise and expectation before he got it under control. “Sorry, I meant Professor Rog-“</p><p>“Hey, you can call him Steve,” he assured you, so damn sweet and diligent. “I met him, you know, I’d go as far as calling him a friend. And right here, right now, he is not your professor, but your boyfriend. I’m talking to you as a counsellor so feel free to call me Sam if you’re comfortable. And to answer your question, I assume that it is as good motive as any, but the fact that the two of you are dating is practically a public knowledge at this point, so it doesn’t really narrow our field of suspects.”</p><p>Despite his openness and kind approach, you once again could only shrug, growing desperate by the minute. The urge to leave – because suddenly it made even more sense, him taking you here, he was friends with Steve, he was <em>stalling</em> – became unbearable.</p><p>You didn’t have the strength to see Steve now. You <em>couldn’t.</em> You would question every gesture, analyse <em>everything</em> and perhaps came to the conclusion that he agreed with the author of the poem and you desperately didn’t want that. You needed to forget about this, preferably with an unhealthy amount of alcohol, you needed to cry some more, you needed ice-cream and a hug and to bitch about everything and you needed a fucking nap that would last at least a week.</p><p>“I don’t know who hates me that much, I swear. Can I please go now?”</p><p><em>Sam</em> cocked his head to side, a minute frown creasing his brows. “Is that what you want?”</p><p>
  <em>Do you really want to leave before Steve gets a chance to get here?</em>
</p><p>You should probably feel guilty. You <em>wanted</em> to feel guilty, because that was you being a coward and it was downright mean to Steve, who would no doubt learn about this very soon and from someone else, but you didn’t have the capacity to think about anything at all besides feeling like you were going to explode any second.</p><p>“Yes. Thanks for being nice and all, but I—I’d rather go.”</p><p>“You have a roommate? A friend you live with and who’s in?” he fussed, voice gravely, amiable chocolate eyes observing you with worry. Did he think you were about to hurt yourself? Did you look like the type? Were you? You mentally shook your head. <em>Jesus.</em></p><p>“Yeah,” you creaked, already rising to your feet, endlessly grateful that he was letting you go. “Penny. We— uhm, we were supposed to go <em>celebrating.” </em></p><p>You nearly choked on the last word, feeling like everything but going out tonight. The idea of going out and facing all the stares cause by the widely-spread e-mail made your stomach clench.</p><p>You kinda lost the appetite to celebrate anything to begin with; all the relief and joy, which had filled every last bit of your being post-learning your grade, vanished and was replaced by a dark sticky substance filling your lungs, your gut, your veins, muffling the outside world.</p><p>Perhaps Penny would agree to a loud night in?</p><p>“You can still do that, that’s up to you. But please, get some sleep and don’t be alone. Here,” he stood up as well, handing you a card. “My number, even if you just need to talk to a sort-of outsider and word-vomit all over someone, okay?”</p><p>You couldn’t argue with his offer – you had a feeling you’d vomit soon, either verbally or literally. Still, you charmed a shaky smile that probably turned out a grimace.</p><p>“K. Thanks… Sam.”</p><p>“Any time.”</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>Of course, Wilson’s unspoken question about moving quick to avoid an encounter with certain professor was painfully on point.</p><p>You bailed on Steve whom you were supposed to wait for even if just for a hug and congratulations, practically running to the dorm, your unsteady feet and tears still clouding your vision be damned.</p><p>You ignored the ringing of your phone, assuming it was Steve himself; bile rose to your throat at the idea of hearing his voice at that moment. He tried twice before you smashed the power button and threw the phone back to your purse, breathing out in relief and wanting to puke at the same time.</p><p>You truly couldn’t find the capacity to deal with him momentarily – you needed to be <em>alone</em> and safe from any prying eyes, preferably in the comfort of your shared dorm with Penny. You cried harder when you finally reached it, your feet hurting from attempting to run in heels.</p><p>It wasn’t hard to figure out that Penny somehow already knew, probably from the e-mail – it was written all over her face. And hadn’t her expression been enough, instead of a celebratory champagne she handed you a shot of a transparent liquid the moment you opened the door.</p><p>You turned it bottoms up without questioning it and asked for another. Penny grabbed the bottle of vodka waiting on the shoe rack and poured one for you and one for herself. You didn’t bother clinking the glasses.</p><p>Though the burn in your throat felt pleasant, it did nothing to sooth the burn in your eyes and heart. Penny’s embrace made it a bit better.</p><p>So did the third shot of vodka.</p><p>You didn’t switch on your phone that day again – and when it was nearing midnight, after a four-hour nap, you convinced Penny to go celebrate to the Freddy’s as you had originally planned to do. You pretended that no one stared at you and instead you danced and drank until your mind was swimming enough for the sorrow and anger to drown.</p><p>You were one lucky bitch to have Penny walk you home.</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰ </p><p>Steve was sitting at his desk at the faculty office he shared with Bucky and was working hard at what he excelled at for these past days despite his genuine efforts at not doing so; getting absolutely nothing done at all.</p><p>His hands had grown somewhat unsteady, a reflection of how he was feeling, how torn and absurdly broken he had become. He was spilling drinks on a regular basis, items kept falling from his flimsy hold. His brain felt foggy these days as well, most likely a consequence of the shitty sleep he was getting.</p><p>His bed felt too big despite his rather large frame and too cold despite his body temperature usually running almost too high; the sheets smelled strange and foreign despite being his own and the bed screamed with emptiness on a volume that kept interrupting his already deficient sleep.</p><p>Four days.</p><p>Four days since one <em>stupid</em> poem knocked his world out of its orbit and everything that mattered crashed down. Well, perhaps not everything, Steve happened to like his job too and he still had it, but such detail seemed insignificant; it certainly did in comparison to the fact that he had been attempting and had failed to reach you.</p><p>Calls.</p><p>Texts.</p><p>Few e-mails when he felt particularly helpless and frustrated.</p><p>His messed up sleeping and eating schedule and the irregularity that came with the exam period would make a perfect case of him losing any notion of time – yet Steve knew about every second without you, practically counting them.</p><p>He could still see Sam Wilson standing outside the classroom he had been testing students’ knowledge in as if it happened yesterday. He could recall with painfully stark clarity the unreadable expression on his face and the ominous “Steve, man… we need to talk.”</p><p>Steve still remembered Tony Stark waltzing in the next day with a baby in some sort of a front backpack, agitated that someone had gotten into the database, let alone to send all the hate-emails, and how he announced he found the culprit and their accomplices in an <em>hour</em>, which apparently happened to be too long to his liking.</p><p>Steve would smile at the memory of the technical genius’ antics, but the gaping hole in his chest caused by the deafening silence from you prevented it. Hell, not even the vivid picture of Carol Danvers from the faculty of law, moonlighting like a member of the legal department of the university, made the corners of his lips rise.</p><p>And hadn’t it been quite a show, a downright uplifting experience.</p><p>
  <em>Steve was watching the screen with a frown, a stone-solid clench to his jaw and a firm clench to his fists.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was almost amusing really; Bucky kept going about Fury being a creep and not a spy, but despite the lack of a one-way glass, the space Carol and the girl was in – just like two other rooms, each with one man – resembled an interrogation room. Steve never had been more grateful for audio and video feed in his life, but he sure as hell wasn’t laughing in delight at being proved right.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>In fact, it had been taking all of his willpower not to burst into those rooms and give a piece of his mind to every single person guilty of being involved in hurting you. In causing his life to collapse on itself.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Steve couldn’t quite recall the brunet Carol was roasting, but he suspected he had seen her in one of the classes he was teaching. She didn’t stand out from the crowd of students and he didn’t see anything special about her worth remembering; then again, he tended to forget to take notice of other pretty faces ever since he had laid his eyes on yours.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And right now, all he saw was a face of a vicious bitch who forced you into pushing him away and a single look at her had his blood boiling.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Steve truly wanted to punch the living daylights of her and that said something, because he prided himself in having moral objection to hitting women, especially from sheer anger.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>However, the desire was growing with each piece of information he learned. Because Yvonne Whatever-Is-Her-Name was a piece of work for fucking certain.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She talked a guy number one, whom she was attending Introduction to Social Studies 101 and who had a very apparent teenage-like crush on her, into reaching out to his friend, guy number two, whom he often played some online video game with, into hacking the database, sending the e-mails and finding out when and where exactly your exam was, just so Yvonne herself could redecorate the corridors and bathroom and make sure you wouldn’t miss her work of art.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Carol was alternating between visiting each of the ‘suspects’ and man, did they sing like birds. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Steve wanted to strangle them all, but fuck, the hatred for Yvonne Burton specifically was already consuming him and gnawing at his very soul; yes, he found out her last name just so he knew his mortal enemy. He was going to burn her to the ground, one way or the other… not that Carol hadn’t been doing a fine job so far.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That damn brunet had tears running down her face, sobbing occasionally, but still rarely sassing back. Somehow, seeing her like that wasn’t half as satisfying as Steve hoped, because his mind kept wandering to you and wondering if you looked about the same and every time such picture formed in his head, he hated Ms.Burton a fraction more.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She had used a guy who liked her, which Carol blatantly pointed out. The lawyer didn’t seem to hold back her own snark if the question about how the culprits met – via some forum for bruised ego, was it? – was anything to go by.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I might be a lawyer, but I’m begging for every art professor and author I know – stay away from poetry. What you wrote is a child’s rhyme really, but like every writing, it says a lot about who you are. And it gives me a plenty of ammunition. We have two names, one full, one last name pointing out a specific person from the context. If I play my cards right, we have defamation on our hands, libel to be precise. Congratulation,” Carol remarked in a surprisingly calm voice. The other woman visibly paled. Good. “And what about the last line? Is that… is that a threat of violence? I can make it harassment, but if I try hard enough, perhaps we can consider it something more serious…?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You don’t get to threaten me! You’re lying! I’ve done nothing wrong and so serious!” the girl – and really, in Steve’s eyes, she was nothing but a stupid girl who somehow managed to kick his life in its balls – exploded, jumping to her feet.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Carol levelled her with a glare and an irritated hiss. “Sit down.” Burton did, clammy hands curled up in trembling fists. “And you’ve done more than enough.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You don’t understand!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Oh don’t I? Be my guest then. Explain it. Your motivation, the legal side, anything. I’m all ears.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I love him!” the girl exclaimed and Steve grinded his teeth as a surge of rage shooting through his veins.</em>
</p><p><em>Like fucking hell she did. He didn’t remember even talking to her if he ever had to start with and she </em>loved <em>him?!</em></p><p><em>Was that really what this was about? This girl somewhat liked him and got obsessed? Decided to wreck his girlfriend? To what end? To drive the two of you apart? To make you hate him so he would run to her? To simply ruin your future? What the fuck was wrong with her?! She was a damn kid with hurt pride and zero efforts put in so far, because he couldn’t even </em>remember<em> her-</em></p><p>
  <em>“Oh you really don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t have done this,” Carol responded with a cold edge to her voice, apparently agreeing with Steve’s thoughts and being equally unimpressed with Ms.Burton dramatic confession.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m fighting for him! Ain’t nothing wrong-”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oh Steve would argue with that so hard. He could feel Sam watching him from the corner of his eye, but neither of them said anything as Steve gripped the edge of the table the monitors were on.</em>
</p><p><em>He was sure he was going to be sick, the edge of his vision doing something he only read about; as if truly turning red, crimson with hunger for blood. He never </em>ever<em> craved tearing someone in half, not a single one of the guys who bullied him in school, not the girls that laughed at him when he said he liked them; and make no mistake, he had always felt mad enough.</em></p><p>
  <em>But right now, he tasted undiluted rage and it tasted like acid with a bitter aftertaste of iron and copper, searing hot on his tongue and spreading through his body, turning it heavy and nauseatingly light at the same time.</em>
</p><p><em>“No, you’re </em>ruining his life,”<em> Carol emphasized, leaning onto the table and glaring murder at the girl. “If this is your idea of fighting for someone, it’s pretty twisted. You could have done literally anything to make him notice you, hell, pick you, but leave if he still said no, because that’s a sensible thing to do. But instead, you hurt someone he cared about. And that means you hurt him too – not to mention that his name is in there, possibly putting a scrap on his reputation. If you did love him, you’d want him to be happy.” </em></p><p>
  <em>Steve gulped and looked away, unable to bear the weight of Carol’s words, feeling the jab on his own person. Because he was familiar with being accused of ruining someone’s life and future despite seemingly loving them. God knew that on a rainy day, he wondered about his own ‘love’ and its purity too – and now, it was fucking pouring and Steve had been forced to question everything he knew.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Was this little brunet Satan a godsend in fact? Was she supposed to tell him to stop lying to himself about not being your doom? Just what kind of a mess this stunt would have made had you been working a steady job and this got to your employer?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A gentle hand reached for his shoulder, a silent support, and Steve found himself torn between irritated, grateful and deeply ashamed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>No matter how much he hated it, he should be on the list to get punched for hurting you too.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“So, sorry to break it to you, but you don’t love him,” Carol continued and with Sam’s palm on his shoulder, Steve forced himself to watch the scene, the grand finale. “You’re just a little girl with attitude issues, a crush that got out of hand, and a ton of luck for knowing a guy willing to help you. Guess what – you just ran out of that luck.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Heavy silence fell on the interrogation room and Steve’s eyes slid shut, hearing Carol and Yvonne’s parting words.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And just so you know, she didn’t get the highest score. She got a B.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Steve didn’t even know that and despite all the shit they were in, he felt a surge of pride for his g- hopefully still his girl.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>At the same time, the fact that he learned it from Carol and not from you as he still couldn’t reach you, felt like a punch to his solar plexus.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Carol entered the monitoring room with a discontent expression on her face, wordlessly telling Steve and Sam that the conversation, no matter how harsh, wasn’t satisfying enough.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Still, Steve glanced at her and nodded with severity. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Thank you, Carol,” he rasped, surprised by how hoarse his own voice sounded; for the burn of rage in his stomach and the tension in his muscles, he almost forgot about the lump gradually growing in his throat with each hour of silence from you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“My damn pleasure,” Carol huffed with slight irritation, one clearly not aimed at Steve. She subtly raised her eyebrows. “I kinda want to punch her, but I guess I’m not the only one, huh?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Steve sighed and closed his eyes, his hands almost shaking with the said need. Still, it was surprisingly relieving to be called out on that and to learn that he wasn’t the only one. And when he opened his eyes again, the look on Carol’s face told him that she wasn’t blaming him one bit.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You have no fucking idea, I- Jesus, I never wanted to—to-- so much in my life.“</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The rise of one corner of her lips was sympathetic. “We’ll handle this, Steve. I know it’s hard to hear, but you can’t really help us here. Go home. Rest.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The lump in Steve’s throat grew nearly suffocating at the idea of going to the empty apartment, where his uselessness became even more evident. Steve eyed Sam, searching with hope for any sign of a better advice, but the counsellor only nodded to second Carol’s thought. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Go home and try to call your girl. She’ll pick up eventually.” </em>
</p><p>At that time Steve had done exactly that – however, the result had remained identical to those with his previous attempts. You hadn’t picked up and he had left a voicemail and a pathetic text that somehow seemed to be reflecting all of his insecurities and doubts about your relationship and it hadn’t turned out at all as he had planned – and then it had been too late to take it back.</p><p>He had sent another and another, almost hour after hour and he was gradually realizing that he was forgoing all hope and his faith in what you two had and what it could become in the future; and god, did he want the future <em>so badly</em>.</p><p>But he couldn’t always get what he wanted, could he? He thought that a miracle had happened when he had first met you and later heard your yes to the date. But here you were.</p><p>Four days from that terrible incident.</p><p>Did Steve even believe that you two were supposed to be together? He didn’t even know anymore. Perhaps it was an intervention from some higher power and you two breaking apart was meant to be, saving you a heartbreak and disillusions which were about to come later.</p><p>He squeezed his eyes shut at the thought and the sensation that felt like a punch to his gut, his insides cramping.</p><p>That was <em>not</em> true. You two loved each other. You had found something truly amazing in each other and you were about to reach out to him any minute so you could continue to your brighter future together.</p><p>…right?</p><p>Except a minute passed by and nothing happened, the phone Steve was toying with remaining silent.</p><p>No received text or e-mail.</p><p>No incoming call.</p><p>Another minute and then another ten, the phone still spinning in his hand in almost a reflex at that point and still not lighting up.</p><p>The knot in Steve’s gut turned tighter and tighter, the tension in his shoulders and jaw growing, his mantra of you surely contacting him gradually falling silent.</p><p>Finally, he came to the decision that only fools kept doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result.</p><p>He was supposed to do that a long long time ago, the moment he had convinced himself that coming knocking on your dorm could be considered harassment… and would break his heart in case you’d shut the door to his face telling him you were done with him.</p><p>Biting the inside of his cheek, Steve swept through his contacts and dialled your best friend and roommate in one person.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>Let me know what you thought! I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ doing something with randomly timed one-shots to a series, so… you know. I’m a bit nervous. And I guess that this is very different from what this series was so far too, so I hope it’s okay. Thank you :-*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Hurtful Words (part 2)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve’s been hit hard with the events involving bad poetry on campus too. He thinks he knows what needs to be done; but sometimes, what people truly need is a really good friend who knocks some sense into them. <br/>Enter Bucky Barnes and Penny Cooper.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings: mentions of name calling and humiliation, brief violence, swearing, some angst and <i>lots</i> of talking</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The friendship between Bucky and Steve had begun with a beautiful chain reaction.</p><p>On a cold November day many years ago, a six-year-old Steve Rogers witnessed a pair of stupid boys stealing a girl’s hat and tossing it around and he stepped in; a seven-year-old Bucky Barnes saw two jerks hitting a younger and obviously weaker kid and decided to take it personally.</p><p>That day, Bucky Barnes met Steve Rogers and instantly became a protective older brother, for he recognized that Steve had a brave and kind heart. That day, they became easy friends, because Steve recognized the same qualities in Bucky.</p><p>Even if they grew as people, they had their ups and downs, they never grew apart completely and stayed best friends for life – and the protectiveness over each other never disappeared. Which was only one of the reasons why Bucky felt an unbearable urge to punch someone – preferably the idiots who got his OTP into this mess.</p><p>Fairly enough, he wanted to punch <em>you</em> a little bit as well for keeping Steve in the dark and hurting him too, but hey – you were entitled at least, you were the target of the <em>jest</em> that the three antichrists came up with.</p><p>Hell, Bucky even considered reaching out to you himself since you kept ignoring Steve; not necessarily to scold you, god forbid actually punch you, but just to <em>beg</em> you to talk to his friend.</p><p>In the end, he decided against it, because it wasn’t quite his business and you probably knew better than him when you were ready to talk. God knew that seeing you broken and in tears would hurt Steve too and it would only feed his doubts and as Bucky suspected, misplaced <em>guilt. </em></p><p>No one wanted to see that right? Bucky surely didn’t.</p><p>He truly just wanted his friend happy and the thing was, <em>you</em> made him the happiest Bucky had ever seen him, even with the complications and ‘controversy’ surrounding your relationship.</p><p>So when after days of silence on your end Bucky entered the office and saw a sombre expression on Steve’s face, somewhat more pensive than his recent usual, and a phone in his hand, he froze in the doorway, heart stopping in his chest.</p><p>Oh. <em>Oh no, please don’t let that be it.</em></p><p>His heart kicked back in when he focused on Steve’s eyes – they were downcast, but visibly not teary and Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. Manly men and all that, but fuck, Steve would shed a tear or two if you two were completely definitely over. Oh, and he would probably devastate the office in a burst of frustration.</p><p>“Hey Steve,” Bucky hummed nonchalantly, closing the door behind him and making his way to his desk. “Who was that?”</p><p>He purposely didn’t look at Steve so the punk wasn’t shy about talking about whatever conversation he had. It happened on occasion, Steve keeping stuff to himself, when he was thinking he was annoying Buck – but joke was on him. Yes, Steve could be annoying as fuck, but Bucky could stand a few emotional talks when his friend was on the verge of losing what seemed to be the love of his life.</p><p>“Uhm… nobody,” Steve responded simply, putting the device away. He started going through the papers on his desk as if searching for something in attempt to look busy.</p><p>Bucky rolled his eyes. As if that would work on him.</p><p>“Right. Try again.”</p><p>The rustling stopped, a resigned sigh falling from Steve’s lips before he admitted the truth. “Penny Cooper.”</p><p>Bucky’s head snapped to Steve, eyebrows jumping for a second.</p><p>He did not expect <em>that </em>answer, but he couldn’t say he found it an unpleasant surprise. When Bucky had thought about contacting you, he considered getting in touch with your best friend too.</p><p>And yes, he knew Penn Cooper’s name; hell, he had <em>met</em> her on a sort-of friendly hang-out night where you and Steve tried and very much failed at not being a disgustingly-in-love couple when having a night out with friends. Bucky hadn’t complained nearly as much as he could have, mostly because he was delighted to see Steve so lovestruck for a girl who was evidently just as lovestruck for him.</p><p>Anyway.</p><p>“Ah, Penny. You finally decided to call her. Good. How did it go?”</p><p>Steve didn’t appear to share Bucky’s hopeful sentiment, running a hand down his face and turning his gaze to the ceiling.</p><p>Bucky narrowed his eyes; while his heart sank at what seemed to be no good news, he could tell that this was <em>not</em> a mourning Steve. In fact, looking closer at Steve as he approached his desk, it was dawning to him that this was Steve <em>overthinking</em> something he heard from Penny.</p><p><em>Great.</em> <em>That’s probably even worse.</em></p><p>In attempt to prevent a catastrophe in making, Bucky did the only thing that came to his mind. He probed.</p><p>“That bad, huh?” he stated more than asked, crossing his arms on his chest. “She told you to leave her bestie alone?”</p><p>Steve grimaced, his eyebrows furrowing; a clear sign that he was digging deeper into a hole he was creating for himself in his head. The pit of misery and gloom. <em>The pit of despair.</em></p><p>“Not exactly… I think.”</p><p>That was the problem with Steve really – sometimes, he <em>thought.</em> Steve Rogers was in fact known for occasional and epical impulsiveness, but so the gods above help if he sank into a well of <em>overthinking.</em> Because that usually led to a stupid decision, which was practically irreversible due to Steve’s infamous determination and stubbornness. It was next to impossible to talk him out of something once he made up his mind.</p><p>“Stop that, punk,” Bucky warned him silently, uncrossing his arms and giving Steve a glare.</p><p>“Stop what?” Steve asked with a sigh,<em> as if he didn’t know.</em></p><p>“Overthinking. Get out of your head. It just produces loads of bullshit right now.”</p><p>“Bucky-“ was all that Steve said, sending his friend an imploring gaze, but Bucky was not fooled. The wheels of doom were still turning in Steve’s head, inevitably leading to the aforementioned bullshit.</p><p>And as Bucky had learned the hard way, once the final stage of decision-making was reached, there was no going back. Not with Steve. Which meant he had to stop that disastrous thought before Steve’s stubborn ass grew it into an apocalypse plant.</p><p>Then, Steve’s expression shifted; a minor change, yet all too visible to a man who knew him since he was a kid.</p><p>Bucky recognized what just happened… and he panicked.</p><p>When Bucky Barnes was panicking, he did things he wasn’t necessarily proud of later, but of which he was certain would work.</p><p>Plus, the quickly set-up plan was bound to kill two birds in one stone, giving Bucky’s unbearable urge lasting for the past few days an outlet. Win-win, crisis averted, right?</p><p>“Get up off your ass,” Bucky ordered, earning a half-heartedly invested surprised and confused raise of eyebrows from his friend.</p><p>However, Steve did not stand up.</p><p>“Get up, Steven.”</p><p>Slightly annoyed but resigned, Steve rose to his feet, the movement a testimony of how exhausted he was. How much energy the past few days had stolen from him… how much of energy he had spent on navigating through the maze of confusing and self-doubting thoughts.</p><p>But that was ending now; Bucky was going to make sure of that.</p><p>“What?” Steve sighed, clearly expecting more of the pep-talk, possibly more intense since he was asked to stand upright.</p><p>He was wrong.</p><p>
  <em>Sorry, Steve.</em>
</p><p>Like a lightning, Bucky’s fist shot up to Steve’s nose and connected with it with a snap.</p><p>Steve stumbled back into the chair, barely catching himself and his nose, staring on Bucky wide-eyed and hurt.</p><p>To be fair, Bucky was hurting too – <em>fuck,</em> he forgot how punching people without boxing gloves felt.</p><p> “The <em>fhuck-“</em></p><p>“-is wrong with you?!” Bucky finished as he was wondering the same, shaking his hand in hopes to distract himself from the pain.</p><p>For a brief second, satisfaction flashed in Steve’s eyes; but Bucky could tell that his get-out-of-your-head technique worked, so he was pretty satisfied himself. Not to mention that Steve probably felt that punch in the back of his skull, having literally rocked his world.</p><p>“I wah jugh godda hask!” Steve mumbled, checking the fingers hovering around his nose for blood, frowning as they indeed stained in some crimson – but nothing terrible, Bucky thought.</p><p>Then again, he wasn’t the one with cracked nose.</p><p>“Outta your head <em>now?” </em>he asked, unable to hide all of his smugness.</p><p>Steve frowned at him, clenching his jaw, but didn’t try to punch him back as he probably realized which purpose the unexpected and unusual violence served.</p><p>“Bhacky, wah ta hell-?”</p><p>“Right before I punched you – you decided to give up on her, didn’t you?” Bucky questioned, being 95% sure about it. Steve’s face told him it should have been 100%. <em>Idiot.</em> Sad and having the right, but still an idiot. “The Steve Rogers I know wouldn’t give up.”</p><p>“How did you even-?” Steve asked incredulously, not trying to deny it, not even with his words.</p><p>As if Bucky still needed words with him. He knew him almost better than himself.</p><p>Also, it was funny how quickly Steve’s punch-induced mumble disappeared.</p><p>“You kidding? You’re acting like I didn’t know you since you were six. And during all that time, I didn’t see you give up, not fucking <em>once!”</em></p><p>The slight raise in volume of Bucky’s voice stirred something in Steve – or perhaps it was the accusatory tone by which Bucky was shamelessly trying to provoke a reaction. Because really, Steve <em>desperately</em> needed to leave his overactive brain behind and experience some new emotion besides pure misery and guilt. Anger was okay, Bucky supposed – not great, but <em>okay.</em></p><p>“Jesus, Buck! You know this isn’t it! Look at the mess we already made!” Steve exploded, throwing his hand in the air. “What about in the future? She was planning doing her master’s here! And what about in her future job? It was on the Internet – it never goes away! It will stay with her like a fucking plague, a bomb loaded with C4 ready to be set off! They’ll do a background check and come across it and decide that it would send a bad message to people. Or they’ll humiliate her <em>again,</em> mock her that she’s gonna start an affair on the workplace too. She won’t get the job just because of being with me and they’ll call her a <em>whore</em> on top of that--she doesn’t deserve that!”</p><p>The name you had been called stood out even in the long passionate monologue – Steve spited it out with so much venom and hatred towards anyone who would dare to call you that that Bucky nearly had to take a step back from the intense crackling in the air.</p><p>He watched Steve take a deep breath in silence, frustrated and sorrowful blue orbits watching with a silent plea to <em>understand.</em></p><p>And Bucky did; he really did. To a point.</p><p>“She doesn’t deserve that, Buck,” Steve echoed in a whisper.</p><p>A whisper of a broken man, torn between seeking his own happiness on expense of someone else’s and doing what was right in his mind.</p><p>Bucky reciprocated the stare, simultaneously impressed and unimpressed as his mind had already put together what Steve had been thinking before saying it out loud. Steve’s speech only confirmed his fears of how Steve would twist what was happening into something he was to be blamed for completely... and would come up with doomsday scenarios.</p><p>Except there were always two people (well, sometimes more), when it came to this sort of thing, weren’t there? Two people who were equally participating in this relationship, both very much <em>willingly.</em></p><p> “…you done?”</p><p>The plea in Steve’s eyes seemed to deepen before he averted Bucky’s gaze in shame.</p><p>Like <em>Steve</em> should be ashamed for the crimes against human decency others committed. Crimes like writing bad poetry and putting in on walls.</p><p>“No. You know what else is there. I know you know.”</p><p>Yes, Bucky knew.</p><p>“You bet your perfect dramatic ass I do, Rogers. I figured they weren’t exactly love letters, because you have zero poker face. How many times? What did they call you? <em>A perv? A molester?”</em> Bucky grinded his teeth, the urge to hit someone returning instantly, hungry and thirsty for blood – and Steve’s nose wouldn’t do this time. He needed a real asshole so he could feel like he made a difference.</p><p>Bucky was aware that Steve had started receiving the hate letters almost as soon as the whispers about the relationship started. He had never said a word about them to Bucky and at first, Bucky <em>had</em> been thinking they might have been love letters from someone else, causing him to frown, because in which universe wanted Steve someone unhappy, let alone because of him?</p><p>But it soon dawned to him; <em>precisely</em> because Steve hadn’t shared them. Not with Buck and not with <em>you,</em> he suspected. He couldn’t decide which was worse.</p><p>“…among other things,” Steve sighed and shook his head. “It would be tiring, it <em>is,</em> but… you’re right. I don’t give up easily. <em>That</em> kind of hate letters… those I can handle. But they said I’ll ruin her future too… and they’re right, it’s already started. I can’t-- not her, Buck. I can’t watch her deal with that bullshit. This can never happen again. I—I have to let her go.”</p><p>Weren’t they just over it? That Steve’s head was in no state to make reasonable choices?</p><p>“You cannot unring a bell, Steve. It’s done. You said so, it’s on the internet. Tony’s done his best to delete the trail, so the digital print is practically non-existent, but<em> it’s done,” </em>Bucky remarked matter-of-factly. “The things you’re saying, they might be true <em>to some extent,</em> not as tragic as you paint them though<em>. </em>The question is – are you gonna fight for the two of you, so the good stays too… or are you gonna leave like that, on that real fucked-up note and regret it in few years’ time when you look back at this?”</p><p>Bucky could pinpoint the exact moment all fight left Steve’s body – his shoulders slumped and his expression turned resigned, almost desperate as he looked up into Bucky’s eyes, his gaze speaking thousands of words.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter,” Steve whispered, averting Bucky’s gaze then, focusing on his desk instead, staring blindly ahead. “She wouldn’t talk to me, Buck. I tried, you know that. She’s done with me.“</p><p>Bucky sighed and leaned his palms onto the desk, easing the pressure on Steve’s poor tormented soul by softening his demeanour. In the end, all he was trying to do was to help – no matter how frustrated he was getting.</p><p>“Of course she wouldn’t talk you, Steve. She’s probably just as caught up in her head as you are in yours. I just hope that Cooper is working on getting her out. What did she tell you?”</p><p>Steve gulped and bit on the inside of his cheek. Bucky would <em>swear</em> he saw a hint of a blush on his friend’s cheek and an unpleasant hunch crept up on him.</p><p>
  <em>Oh no, he didn’t.</em>
</p><p>“…that I shouldn’t come over so I don’t push her too much. That she might not be responding, but she’s listening to all of my voicemails and reads all the texts and e-mails, so until she explicitly asks me to lose her number, I should keep trying,” Steve mumbled, traces of both hope and shame lacing his voice.</p><p>Bucky pushed off of the desk and huffed loudly, looking up to the ceiling and pleading God for strength.</p><p>A dumbass. His friend was a complete and utter <em>dumbass.</em></p><p>When Bucky spared him a glare that told the blond what he was thinking, Steve sunk further into his chair.</p><p>And Bucky was honestly so <em>so done.</em></p><p>Hadn’t he been delighted at the turn of events and Penny,<em> the best friend,</em> giving them hope, he might have punched Steve again for being a dramatic fool. And for being an idiot.</p><p>“Sometimes I think you like getting punched, Steven, I have no other explanation,” Bucky deadpanned and then closed his eyes and went to massage the bridge of his nose to ease the headache that was starting to build up in reaction to stress. He loved Steve to bits, honest to God, but he really could be an idiot sometimes. “So you talk to <em>the</em> friend, who probably knows her through and through, she tells you <em>this</em> and still you go: nah, let’s leave her alone, let’s break things off, let’s give up. <em>Jesus,</em> Steve.”</p><p>Steve held up his hands palms up, apparently lost and clueless.</p><p>Okay, Bucky felt for him. But still.</p><p>“I don’t know what else to do, Buck. I- I love her. She’s everything I could ever want, I cannot imagine losing her. It’s… it’s making me sick to just think-- but I don’t want to ruin her life either, Buck, I don’t want to-“</p><p>“Be happy?” Bucky interrupted, earning a deadly glare from his friend. “Don’t give me that look. I told you. Now, she’s probably still processing, just like you. Her head is probably a mess… just like <em>yours.</em> I know it’s hard, fuck, I know. But try and do what Cooper is telling you and stay patient. <em>Oh, </em>and I don’t know, maybe just-- don’t. Give. Up.”</p><p>Bucky had to gather his next thoughts, not at all happy about what he was about to say next, feeling like he was undermining the message he was trying to get through. But he believed that Steve needed to hear that too – his righteous side would love it, in fact.  </p><p>“And then, let her make the choice. It will hurt like a bitch if she decides to break up, but at least you won’t be making her choice for her. I think there’s a fair chance that she’ll come around. She likes you a lot too, you know.”</p><p>“She said anything to you?” Steve’s head snapped up automatically, his face lighting up with a hint of an eager smile.</p><p>Hadn’t he been so cute, Bucky would have rolled his eyes at him. Instead, he shared his observation that took zero effort to gain. Everyone who had at least one functioning eye would notice… which included Fury. Anyway-</p><p>“She didn’t have to. It’s written all over her face, in her body language. Shit Steve, you practically live together, how can you even doubt her feelings for you? I thought you were like… soulmates almost. Shared everything and stuff…” Which lead him to another thought, a brief surge of fear that there was one thing that might complicate this matter further if possible. “But she doesn’t know about those ‘love’ letters, does she?”</p><p>“God, of course not!”</p><p>“Good, then she can make a decision to overcome this on her own, just like you decided to deal with <em>your</em> problem alone,” Bucky offered and a smile slowly spread on his lips. “Just… share it with her once things are a bit calmer, will ya’? You don’t want her to find out on her own.”</p><p>Steve mirrored his expression, the tension in his body visibly easing. Bucky could kiss Penny Cooper at that moment. Hell, maybe he would the next time he saw her, just because.</p><p>“…you really think I should keep trying?” Steve asked, genuinely curious, but obviously knowing the answer already, seeing as his bashful smile widened.</p><p>
  <em>Really?!</em>
</p><p>“Steven, my hand hurts, don’t make me punch you again.”</p><p>“…point taken,” Steve chuckled, turning his palms to Bucky in a show of meaning no harm. And not wanting to get hit again, probably. “I can’t believe you hit me.”</p><p>Bucky had to admit that it wasn’t his brightest moment – but hey, it worked, so guess it was sort of a genius move after all.</p><p>His eyebrows jumped suggestively, teasing. “Didn’t think I’d see the day <em>you’ll</em> be on the receiving end of the infamous Barnes’ super-jab.”</p><p>“Oh, quit bragging.”</p><p>“Blah blah blah, you’re just mad because my fists are like made of iron,” Bucky exclaimed, clenching them and showing them off, causing another chuckle bubble in Steve’s chest.</p><p>Bucky’s heart jumped in joy – it was like gift from heavens to see Steve like this after the days of gloom.</p><p>“Jerk.”</p><p>
  <em>“Punk.”</em>
</p><p>“Thank you,” Steve retorted in the same manner, but Bucky read honest gratitude in the two simple words.</p><p>“You’re welcome,” he replied with the similar simplicity and depth they both understood. “Drinks?”</p><p>“God, <em>yes.”</em></p><p>“No hard liquor tho, we need you in good shape when your girl calls you back,” Bucky pointed out, satisfied when Steve’s smile widened a fraction more.</p><p>“You got yourself a deal, Buck.”</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>The night before graduation ceremony, Steve forwarded one of the strangest texts he had ever received to Bucky: <em>Come. Incognito. Blend with the crowd till you get a signal.</em></p><p>Steve apparently wasn’t sure what was your best friend trying to say – or he rather had no clue why would she ask him to do that, why come to the graduation (which made him hopeful) and why in secret (which confused the heck out of him).</p><p>He and Bucky agreed that Steve should listen to the advice though; what did he have to lose anyway?</p><p>Few minutes before midnight, Steve sent a simple answer: <em>OK.</em></p><p>Several moments later, somewhere in the campus, another phone beeped on a young woman’s nightstand.</p><p>
  <em>Operation: Morons is on.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I really had planned this to be a two-shot for the series, but my usual longwinded writing got in the way. I hope that’s okay and that you liked the Steve-Bucky bro moment at least a little bit ;)</p><p>Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Hurtful Words (part 3 - final)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>Warnings:</b> mentions of name calling and humiliation,swearing, some angst and lots of talking and maybe… ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You had been through several phases of dealing with what happened and they came and went and came and went, one blending into another, other times changing so sharply and quickly as if you flipped a metaphorical switch.</p><p>But what stayed for the majority of the time was that you simply had <em>no idea </em>what should you do.</p><p>One moment, you were certain that this was a sign from above telling you to break things off with Steve, because no matter the beautiful moments you had shared, continuing the relationship was an epitome of asking for more trouble and even though you had never met a guy <em>so close</em> to your dream man, you wondered if it was worth it.</p><p>The next minute, you mentally yelled at yourself and called yourself a dumb ungrateful bitch, convinced that this was in fact a trial, an ordeal by fire; a test you had to pass so your relationship came out stronger from it. Your faith was rock-solid that Steve was <em>it,</em> because after all, he was the closest guy to your dream man that you had ever met.</p><p>Your emotions were bubbling, the order of stages of grief all messed up, a mixture of self-pity, anger, resignation, denial---<em>shame.</em></p><p>And shame seemed to be a theme that stuck, because the longer you were stalling and leaving Steve’s kind supportive and pleading messages without reply, the worse you felt, <em>ashamed</em> to reach out now, after such a long and pointed silence. Because Steve hadn’t relented, keeping in touch and very obviously staying convinced that you two could push through; the stark contrast of your doubts and his unshakable belief was breaking both your heart and mind.</p><p>How did you even deserve him? He stood by your side, at least as much as he could… while his name was in the poem too and he was probably dealing with so much shit right now and yet he didn’t cease reaching out while you left him in a lurch and really, you must have been the worst girlfriend ever.</p><p>If you even still <em>were</em> a girlfriend… though Steve appeared to still consider you one and it was making you want to tear your hair out, frustrated with your own stupid overthinking ass.</p><p>Penny, bless her, was there the whole time, loyal by your side instead of drinking herself into oblivion in a celebration of her bachelor degree. She was there as well when you received a text yesterday morning, followed by longer-than-usual silence.</p><p><em>I know this has little chance of reaching you, but know this: say the word and I will leave you alone to the point of not going to the ceremony at all despite my presence being formally half-required. Or I’ll be there and stay away. Anything you want, anything that helps you to enjoy your special day. You deserve to celebrate such a great success and I’d hate to be the reason for you to miss out on a memory that will last a lifetime. You deserve the world, sweetheart; and if you don’t want to me to be the one who gives it to you, I’ll have to accept it.</em> <em>Congratulation.</em></p><p>The text had to be split into three separate units, but the message was clear and you had a good thorough cry at it, your shaky conviction growing firmer and earning a solid base.</p><p>He had hit a nail on the head – you had been considering not going and then definitely going and then not again, back and forth for various reasons, but mostly because of him; too excited, too hopeful and too scared to meet him.</p><p>And to think you had been once afraid of facing him after you suspected that he had read your smutty story about him… <em>this</em> was so much more terrifying than that and now you were biting on your lips, slightly redder due to the lipstick you had applied for the ceremony, and you glanced up to meet Penny’s narrowed eyes in the mirror.</p><p>“Don’t you bail out on me now. You promised yesterday that you’d go,” she reminded you, half-concerned, half-strict.</p><p>You sighed, knowing fully that she spoke the truth.</p><p>“I know. It’s just…”</p><p>
  <em>It’s just that I haven’t replied to Steve, AGAIN, and I don’t know if he’s gonna be there. And what I am going to do if he is. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>And what I’m going to do if he isn’t.</em>
</p><p>Penny charmed a supportive grin, walking to you and putting her hand on your shoulder, squeezing it in comfort until you managed to swallow your nerves for a brief second and return the smile weakly.</p><p>She squealed and pulled you to her side, a happy twinkle in her chocolate-coloured eyes.</p><p>“We did it, girl! We fucking made it to the end of bachelor studies! And we’re gonna enjoy every moment of that mummery that comes with it!”</p><p>You couldn’t but snort, amused at her exclaim, while tears burned in your eyes, a mixture of nerves, grief and happiness.</p><p>“Yeah. I guess we should.”</p><p>“That’s my girl!”</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>For all you wanted to enjoy this day with your friend since your family wouldn’t be able to make it, the first thing your eyes searched for in the crowd getting ready for the ceremony was a broad figure with blond hair, a beard and the most beautiful eyes you couldn’t but fall in love with.</p><p>Your stomach, tight from nerves and anticipation, dropped to your feet and you had to focus on keeping the tears at bay.</p><p>Steve wasn’t here.</p><p>The professors were always seated together, expected to hang out in a group – which somehow provided them safety from both students in the gowns and the few individuals who didn’t understand the dress code and arrived in jeans and sweatshirts – and you couldn’t see Steve among them. You even caught a sight of Bucky; and if Steve wasn’t with him, well, then it was clear that he decided to stay home.</p><p><em>Home.</em> You had felt at home with him too, but that was over now.</p><p>What did you expect though? You ignored him for almost a week and even a guy like Steve, so amazing and understanding, would lose his patience with such inconsiderate and downright bratty attitude.</p><p>Your heart weighted a ton, heavy in your chest, pounding anxiously at the thought.</p><p>Was this how you parted ways? Just… fading away? Two lovers, two people <em>in love – </em>and you had realized over the past few days that Steve must have truly loved you – falling apart for the lack of communication? What a cliché.</p><p>But really, how could you have kept your hopes up that he would show up? Because it was sort of expected from the professors? <em>Please.</em> Because he had asked you to let him know if you didn’t want him here… and you hadn’t responded? Again? Right.</p><p>Yes, you hadn’t requested that he stayed away – then again, you hadn’t exactly begged him to come either. All that because you let yourself fall into the pit of doubts and allowed them to eat at your soul and ruin your relationship with the best man you had ever met instead of holding onto him for a dear life.</p><p>You guessed it served you right, more so now, in this very moment.</p><p>Because right now, your resolve and faith that you had been meant to be with Steve felt more solid than ever. By the laws of human nature, by its very essence, you were certain of what you wanted the moment you understood that you lost it.</p><p>A tug at your hand snapped you from your gloomy self-depreciating thoughts, your head automatically turning the direction the intrusion came from. Penny’s face came into view and she frowned as she saw you blink away tears.</p><p>“Hey! No brooding today! Today is a great win of our lives. You hear me?” she scolded you lightly, her eyes twinkling with true happiness and you gulped, nodding obediently.</p><p>“Right. Sorry. You’re right of course.”</p><p>“Damn right I am.”</p><p>You charmed a pathetic smile for her and looked at the other students in the black gowns to distract yourself from one single thought – <em>Is it a win? Or is it the final prove of my loss?</em></p><p>You desperately tried to believe Pen and forced yourself to focus on the bright side, on what you were supposed to be delighted for; you finished your bachelor studies. Yay!</p><p>Yet, despite your best efforts, the ceremony and the speeches from the professors and the officials of your university, all the ‘mummery’ as Penny called it, happened in a strange haze.</p><p>Perhaps that was how everyone felt, drunk on euphoria instead? You guessed. You thought you might have smiled at some point, fuelled by a brief moment of true victory.</p><p>You stood there among other students, your eyes on the stage where Sharon Carter, a student at the top of your class, walked to the stand to give a speech.</p><p>You weren’t exactly friends with Sharon – you talked sometimes, more of a common courtesy exchanged simply because you were classmates. Still, you were mildly curious about what she had to say; she was marked a great student for a reason and she tended to have the ability to catch attention and awake something in others when she talked. An excellent choice for the speech – however, you caught yourself nervously toying with the cap of the case with your diploma, feeling fatigue of the past days catching up with you.</p><p>God, you wanted to go back to your whining and misery, not because you revelled in it, but because in the safety of your dorm room, you didn’t have to put up a front of a student excited to graduate. Not that you were any good at the pretence.</p><p>“Good morning, everyone. Mr. President, Mr. Dean, Professors… and most importantly, students. For some of us, the journey ends here – we are about to leave the not-so-safe space of the university and try our chances out there, in the open and much more dangerous world,” Carter started, a mild smile on her lips. “That said, it doesn’t mean that our school days were exactly easy.”</p><p><em>“Oh, you had no idea,”</em> you mumbled under your breath, a pang in your ribcage reminding you just how harsh university space could be – not just because of the professors and their impossible tasks.</p><p>And they said high-school was the nightmare.</p><p>You noticed several people muttering under their breath too, for various reasons. For a brief moment, you felt shame – the pain others had been through could have been even worse, because illness and death had little regard for waiting for when it was more convenient. Who were you to complain?</p><p>Then again, you felt like you suffered enough too, your pain just as real as theirs.</p><p>Sharon looked around the audience and took a deep breath, her smile turning almost wistful as if she could hear your thoughts. </p><p>“While I’m up here, I would like to do something… a bit unconventional. I know this day shouldn’t be dedicated to one person and that is not what I want to do, but I have to speak up. After all, that is what history taught us – that we <em>have to</em> speak up. I want to talk about something everyone who stands here know – sadly, because it was perfectly wide-spread at the university.”</p><p>Whispers rose in the crowds along with your pulse skyrocketing.</p><p>Fuck. <em>Fuck,</em> she wouldn’t.</p><p>Right?! This was something else she was talking about, something you had missed, because you were too busy sulking.</p><p>You grabbed Penny’s hand at your side, squeezing harshly and shot her a panicked look, wordlessly pleading her to tell you this was not happening and you were just projecting, imagining this was some nightmare coming to life.</p><p>She gave you a side-eye and beckoned her chin to the stage again. Your breathing picked up, your knees feeling weak.</p><p>
  <em>Oh my god, oh fucking shit this was happening.</em>
</p><p>Why the fuck Sharon wanted to open <em>this</em> can of worms publicly?! Did she hate you?</p><p>Granted, you weren’t paying much attention to other people’s faces, but you were hopeful that the mess was slowly dying down and people weren’t necessarily staring at you.</p><p>Now, the small circle of people around you who obviously knew where you were, glanced at you pointedly.</p><p>Hadn’t your ears been ringing and your panic rising, you might have found it weird that they were smiling at you – and not in a condescending or malicious way.</p><p>“Come on. Listen to what she has to say,” Penny whispered to your ear and you eyed her, shocked to find her smiling as well.</p><p>A terrible realization hit you like a train.</p><p>“Wait, you knew about this?” you hissed angrily, your stomach somersaulting. <em>The actual FUCK?! </em>“You knew she was gonna talk about that? What the hell? Why?!”</p><p>Was that why she made you come here?</p><p>“Oh honey, you have no idea what was happening these past few days, do you?  Just listen.”</p><p>Huh?! What the fuck did Penny meant by-</p><p>“I just want to remind to the people feeding bad blood that the girl I’m talking about – a smart young woman who had accepted her diploma today, one of us – she <em>earned</em> her degree. In fact, she probably had to work even harder, because that’s the policy, a sort of a reverse favouritism. The records of her exams are much more detailed and she was under scrutiny, she had to prove that she was nothing the self-proclaimed experts were calling her.”</p><p>As outside your body as you felt, in this surreal moment where Sharon Carter talked about your dirty laundry during your damn graduation ceremony, the word <em>‘whore’</em> still popped in your mind in angry red letters and chased tears into your eyes, the humiliation you had felt when you first spotted the poem overwhelming you again.</p><p>“She had to face every evil glare people sent her way, glares she faced for something as simple as being in love. And just so you know, I have it from a reliable source-“ she pretended to cough while saying Penny’s full name, “-her roommate, that for the long months she’s been with her favourite man, it was in fact Professor Phillips whose name she was whispering in her sleep, because we all know he’s a real hard-ass; my condolences to Professor Rogers.”</p><p>Chuckles erupted in the crowd and you felt your lips twitch involuntarily. More and more people were turning to you as their colleagues elbowed their ribs to subtly point in your direction.</p><p>You lowered your gaze, embarrassed by so much attention – a positive one, it seemed.</p><p>When the hell did that happen?</p><p>“Also, all kudos to Nelson and Murdock, who accepted our request and are now suing the hell out of the Expert One and Two, possibly Three, for defamation and possible attempted assault.”</p><p>Your heart skipped a beat.</p><p>A breathy <em>“Wait, what?!” </em>fell from your lips.</p><p>“They offered to do it for free, but I think that a small donation never hurt anyone. You’ll find the link on the forum dedicated to our girl. You’ll find the link to that forum in your inbox if you haven’t already.”</p><p>There was a <em>forum dedicated to you?! </em>To hate you or to support you? How could you… not know about that?</p><p>Probably had something to do with how you shut off the whole world… social media included. Hell, <em>especially those.</em></p><p>And the people who wrote the poem and sent it to everyone on uni could actually… be sued? It was <em>that</em> serious? From the legal side, not yours, you were sufficiently ruined about that you had no doubt-</p><p>“Let’s clap for Nelson and Murdock as they wave at us. Thank you, gentlemen!” Sharon called out and everyone’s head turned to a pair of lawyers you couldn’t hope to see – but you really had to in the future, because <em>what?!</em></p><p>However, you did reluctantly join the deafening applause the people present dedicated to them.</p><p>Seriously, <em>what</em> was happening?</p><p>“Why I’m saying all this… I know she’s here with us today, because she deserves it just like everyone else. I would like to invite her to stand to the very left of the crowd. Please, come on, our brave soul.”</p><p>Sharon’s eyes unmistakably found you as if she knew where you were standing the whole time – which she probably could. Because of Penny. And obviously, few others.</p><p>Penny nudged you with a grin and you gulped as several onlookers sent you encouraging smiles.</p><p>You felt your face burning with all the eyes on you, your head spinning.</p><p>
  <em>Oh god, oh god-</em>
</p><p>“Go,” Penny whispered to your ear. “You’ll like it, I promise.”</p><p><em>I’ll like</em> <em>what exactly?</em></p><p>“Uh-huh, sure,” you mumbled but gave in, your shaky feet carrying you outside the line of chairs to your left – it was probably no coincidence that you didn’t have to cross the aisle, already standing on the left half.</p><p>Everything was planned, that you were starting to understand… but to what end?</p><p>“You see, I want her to understand that maybe two or three people in this damn school made a fuss, but there’s quite a lot of people who don’t think any less of her, of people who are in fact happy for her and Professor Rogers. Also, I want her to be easy to find for later purpose,” Sharon explained as you reluctantly approached the aforementioned spot.</p><p>
  <em>For later purpose? Easy to find?</em>
</p><p>A hunch slowly crept up your back and you couldn’t decide whether you wanted it to be true or not.</p><p>What were the chances it was something else though?</p><p><em>Pretty big, in fact. </em>Because you had no clue what a surreal world you had found yourself in and how, but it seemed like everything, even the most absurd thing you wouldn’t even dare to think about, came to life here.</p><p>“You know, the best thing about her story is that… it’s a story of all of us. I mean, not in such a great detail, gosh, we wish to own a heart of such fine man, but…” More laughter erupted from the crowd and you choked on the sound ripped from your throat, something between a chuckle and a sob.</p><p>Wasn’t <em>that</em> the truth…</p><p>”But in the end, there is no great difference. We’re standing here today, because we pushed through. We stand here today, because this is our story of love and passion – for things, for people. It’s a story of working hard and losing sleep for something that truly matters to us. It’s a story of fighting off sticks and stones and overcoming obstacles, of fighting for our future,” Sharon said ceremonially, her voice fuelled by true yet not theatrical passion. One corner of her lips rose in a sad smile as she lightly shook her head, sending her blond hair flying. “And folks, I hate to break it to you, but it ain’t always gonna be easy. But the fact that we’re here today, in these ridiculous outfits we secretly love because they are a testimony to our success… it tells me that the future might not be the worst either.”</p><p>Sharon Carter made a pregnant pause, eyes searching in the sea of faces watching her, until her gaze fell at someone near you and her lips spread in an almost cheeky smile, one you hadn’t know she was capable of.</p><p>Before you could try and see what was the cause – even if the rapid beats of your heart already seemed to know the answer – she delivered an explanation.</p><p>“Isn’t that right, Professor Rogers?”</p><p>Hushed voices and shocked exclaims reached your ears, but you couldn’t quite hear them over the pounding of your pulse in your temples.</p><p>A tall figure with broad shoulders cladded in an unfamiliar hoodie was making its way to you, the crowd parting like a sea with each step he took. Even though he did, he didn’t <em>have to</em> lose the hood for your benefit – you had inspected his body thoroughly on many occasions, you knew his gait, and until now, you had believed that you were aware of every hoodie he had in his closet, because you had <em>borrowed</em> each and every one of them at least once when staying at his place... often.</p><p>Ruffled blond hair appeared first and then everything you had eyes for was his lips, curved in a hesitant smile and the beautiful eyes, so deep you could drown in them.</p><p>Your fingertips tingled with anticipation, your chest heaving in quick shallow breaths full of anxiety.</p><p>The expression on Steve’s face was unreadable – and yet, just seeing his face after the series of unfortunate events, was enough to chase tears into your eyes and for your feet to twitch with the unstoppable urge to run to him.</p><p>It was only the fear of his reaction that prevented you from making the tinniest move.</p><p>A pointed clearing of a throat sounded through the microphone, but you couldn’t tell if it worked on people, if they turned their attention to the person on the stage or kept watching your reunion. Reunion with <em>Steve</em> – who naturally hogged all <em>your</em> attention and as he approached you, his presence assaulting nearly all of your senses.</p><p>A sight for your sore teary eyes.</p><p>The barely audible yet deafening whisper of your name.</p><p>His natural scent mixed with his cologne and the detergent he used – even standing two feet away, you would swear you could smell it, perhaps a mirage created by your wishful memories.</p><p>The ghost of his skin and hair tickled your fingers as you had been running your hands through his hair and beard and roamed his body so often that you could practically feel it even now.</p><p>Half of the things you sensed must have been a figment of your imagination; yet, they felt very real, as did the rapid staccato of your heart hammering in your ribcage, the butterflies both pleasant and unpleasant occupying your stomach.</p><p>“Now, let the lovebirds figure it out and listen up, people…”</p><p>“Hi,” he greeted you softly, a single caress of his voice encouraging the flipping of metaphorical wings in your stomach.</p><p>“Hi,” you replied automatically, unable to think about anything better to say.</p><p>What <em>were</em> you supposed to say?</p><p>You had already made your peace with him not coming… to a point. You forgone all hope; so now you were desperately unprepared for him showing up, all casual-looking in jeans and a hoodie and so damn gorgeous as always.</p><p>An attempt at a smile graced his lips, his hand rising to the back of his neck in his typically bashful gesture as he self-consciously looked around.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I had no idea they would make such a fuss. I just followed the instructions and showed up-“</p><p>You heart sank to your gut; your body, warming up in his presence alone as he was your personal sun, suddenly felt cold with the metaphorical bucket of icy water his words provided.</p><p>He came here because someone told him to – someone who planned this stunt, this ridiculous and utterly stupid show. What was next? Were you supposed to kiss for the audience?</p><p>The same nausea you remembered feeling when seeing the poem hit you all over again; Steve didn’t want to be here.</p><p>He wasn’t here for you, he wasn’t here because he wanted to set things right.</p><p>The pain erupting in your chest was shocking and burned like a flame fed on gasoline. You truly were over and his words-</p><p>“No, wait, that came out wrong!” he hurried, crossing the short distance between you in three long steps and you would have taken a step back, hadn’t your feet rooted into the ground. “I came… I’m here because I wanted to see you. I missed you, sweetheart.”</p><p>Tears rolled freely down your face, the endearment sending a shiver down your spine, the admission sparking a warm light within you again.</p><p>You met his gaze, your knees shaking slightly in weakness, threatening to give out as you feared what exactly you would see in his eyes.</p><p>You could melt right there when you were met with the same softness he always observed you with, a blue-green sea of wonder and love, tainted with reluctance and regret.</p><p>You pressed your lips together in effort to stop your jaw from quivering.</p><p><em>Regret</em> you were more than familiar with; conflict, sorrow, self-pity, anger, resignation, shame… those were the other emotions which you guessed he could read on your face.</p><p>His brows furrowed and he closed his eyes, shaking his head.</p><p>“I’m not here to guilt trip you. Actually-“ Steve started again and finally, as his hand disappeared in the front pocket of the hoodie, you found your voice, interrupting him.</p><p>“I missed you too,” you sobbed, covering your mouth as soon as the pathetic sound left your lips.</p><p>Steve’s own lips parted in awe, his gaze somewhat lighting up with a new hearty emotion.</p><p>But once you started talking, finally, <em>finally</em> speaking up, the dam broke and the waterfall of words couldn’t be stopped.</p><p>“And I’m sorry, Steve, I’m so sorry for shutting you off like that, you didn’t deserve that and you were probably in a small personal hell too, I don’t even know if your job was affected and how are doing and it’s not right, I wasn’t supposed to ignore all your calls and texts, I was supposed to-“</p><p>“-reach out when you’re ready,” he finished for you, completely differently than you had intended.</p><p>It shut you up effectively.</p><p>“Look… I understand. It was tough and it still is and if you want this to be the last time we ever talk-- <em>then it will,</em>” he rasped, his voice breaking towards the end of the sentence, your heart squeezing painfully at both the premise and at hearing him hurting.</p><p><em>God,</em> how much he must have been hurting for the past few days and now he was talking about understanding you and forgiving you for ghosting him and still offering you an out and--- <em>Jesus fucking Christ, </em>you were going to drown in your own tears.</p><p>And Steve reached into that damn pocket again and even if you had no idea what was there, you had a hunch it was some kind of a gift – either a parting gift or something for your graduation and you simply <em>couldn’t--- </em> you didn’t care for some materialistic shit right now-</p><p>You just needed to <em>feel </em>him again.</p><p>Taking one single step at a lightning speed, you let the diploma case fall to the ground and threw your arms around Steve’s neck, burying your face in his chest, drawing a surprised huff from him.</p><p>A box dug into your stomach, the content of the front pocket, but you didn’t give a fuck.</p><p>Not when Steve’s arms sneaked around your waist and shoulder with no hesitation, engulfing you, his nose burying into your hair—and cursing when the cap got in his way.</p><p>You chuckled madly into his hoodie, your fingers clutching the fabric when his daring lips awkwardly found a way to your temple.</p><p>You felt like you were touched by an angel, delighted laughter that shook both of your entangled bodies ripping from your throat along with a sob.</p><p>“Shit, Steve, I’m so sorry, I missed you so much, please forgive me, please, please, <em>please-“</em></p><p>“No way. Nothing to forgive-“</p><p>“Like hell it isn’t-“</p><p>“It hurt, but I get it. I truly do,” he whispered frantically, his hands moving to push you away just enough to frame your damp face with his big warm palms. “You just needed time to process what happened.”</p><p>You nodded and then lowered your gaze in shame – because you <em>were</em> incredibly embarrassed for your further cowardice, sobbing like a stupid five-year-old. “And then I—I was scared that you wouldn’t care anymore- that it was too late-“</p><p>God, now when you said it out loud, it sounded even more pathetic, but that was now, <em>in his arms,</em> when everything made so much more sense-</p><p>He shook his head, causing you to look up again just in time to see the flash of hurt in his brilliant irises disappearing. With a brief smile passing his lips, he held your face more firmly in attempt to maintain eye contact.</p><p>“No. It would take a whole lot more for me to stop caring and there still would be no guarantee it would work,” he promised, gaze so intense that you couldn’t but believe him, no matter how unreal his words sounded. “You are <em>not</em> what they called you and you are <em>mine</em>, as long as you want, because I love you. Okay? I love you, because yeah, I still think you’re really freaking amazing.”</p><p>You chuckled at his choice of words, your heart bursting with their message. The heavy burden resting upon your shoulders dropped at last – and you felt as light as a feather, bound to the man staring into your eyes as if they were the last thing he wanted to see should he turn blind the next second.</p><p>He still loved you. Steve still loved you and both your heart and mind were enamoured of him, overwhelmed with his declaration.</p><p>You were not good with your words – in fact, in that moment, you were certain you forgot all the words in English language and in every other language you had ever tried to learn too.</p><p>There was only one language left to use then; the universal one that could fit thousands of words into one single second.</p><p>You let go of Steve’s hoodie, grabbed his face instead and pulled, rising to your tiptoes in hope to reach his lips with yours.</p><p>Luckily for you, he got the message before you could pathetically kiss only the patch of skin under his chin and allowed you to move him as much as you wanted.</p><p>And by Gods, did you <em>want, </em>finally adding the fifth sense into the play. <em>Taste.</em> You missed how he tasted and how his beard scratched against your sensitive skin-</p><p>Your tears spiked your kiss with salt, but neither of your cared as you pushed through the seam of his lips, letting him know what you desired before passing on the lead to him, an open-mouthed kiss full of desire, longing and raw emotions causing you to forget all about your surroundings until a low wolf-whistle sounded on your right, bringing you back to reality.</p><p>You parted involuntarily, foreheads resting against each other, warm tears still rolling down your cheeks, but now getting lost in your content smiles.</p><p>“I love you, Steve. I love you and if you love me too, then we belong together and whoever thinks otherwise can shove their opinion where the sun doesn’t shine,” you echoed his words from almost a year ago, words that stuck with you, because they were true.</p><p>You and Steve, you were the ones who mattered. These were your lives, your relationship, and you had done <em>nothing</em> wrong.</p><p>Because you loved each other.</p><p>Steve’s mouth caught yours for a short moment, nothing but a nip at your lips – a silent agreement followed by a warm smile, mirroring your own.</p><p>“Will you let me give you a little something now?” he whispered, sounding slightly amused as that would be the third attempt that day and the urge to slap his arm for being cheeky felt like a surge of pure life into your veins. The familiarity made your heart sing.</p><p>You glanced up at him, retreating and eyed him from head to toe in an appreciative and yet teasing matter. “Haven’t you already? How do I unwrap you, mister?”</p><p>Steve chuckled and pulled out a rectangular box, holding it out for you.</p><p>“Here. Congratulation to your bachelor degree. And know that if you don’t like it, we can always pick something else.”</p><p>You were only human – and curiosity might have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back and the curiosity was killing you now as well. You bit down on your lip, not quite succeeding at masking your excited smile; even if you weren’t exactly deserving of a gift from Steve at the moment, which he would probably argue with, you couldn’t deny that you were touched by the gesture and who were you kidding, you did enjoy receiving a gift. And it was your graduation ceremony, you deserved to celebrate in every way imaginable.</p><p>You carefully took the box from Steve, tender fingers caressing the bow stuck on top. Hesitating only a second, enjoying the brief intoxicating anticipation, you lifted the lid.</p><p>Your breath got stuck in your throat as you revealed the necklace.</p><p>The chain, probably silver, was very delicate, carrying a simply decorated heart with a winding line in the middle, as if the heart was broken. Despite the symbolism, you couldn’t but revel at its beauty.</p><p>“Steve,” you breathed out shakily, unable to tear your gaze away from the jewellery, tears, dried at last, threatening to escape your eyes again. “This is… so beautiful. So much-“</p><p>You lifted your gaze, only to meet his twinkling eyes. “You like it?”</p><p>You nearly choked at the absurdity of the question. <em>Liked it?</em></p><p>“Steve, it’s—<em>like it? </em>It’s breath-taking. You shouldn’t have- that’s-” <em>Shit, this must have been so expensive-</em> but you had seen it now and you <em>loved it</em> and you didn’t want to part with <em>ever.</em>  “-but I absolutely want to keep it now.”</p><p>Steve chuckled lightly at your antics, but you took no offence since you were being a bit greedy.</p><p>You reached out to brush the pendant with the softest of touches – and sucked a breath in fright when it fell apart, causing you to realize for the first time that the heart could be divided in two, each part having its own loop on the chain.</p><p><em>“Oh,” </em>you let out in surprise, your mind racing. Now that definitely was symbolic. Not a broken heart. <em>Two parts of one heart. </em>“That’s… does this mean one half is for you?”</p><p>As you asked the question to make sure, you looked up to Steve’s face, only to find a blush creeping up his neck.</p><p>“Uhm… I mean-“</p><p>“That’s so cute! And cheesy. So sweet though! I guess we do fit…” you mused, a goofy smile from the swirl of emotions today a testimony of how mushy the lovely and meaningful gift turned you. Steve’s blush deepened, but a delighted smile spread on his lips, eyes soft, so you assumed he was simply happy you liked it. “And we do complete each other.”</p><p>“Oh sweetheart,” Steve whispered, clasping your free hand in his, caressing tenderly before bringing it to his lips and dropping a barely-there kiss on its back.</p><p>“Would you wear it?” you queried, slightly nervous. “One of the halves I mean.”</p><p>It might have been his idea, but did you read him correctly?</p><p>“If that’s what you want. Give me your half and keep mine,” he offered, one corner of his lips higher in a cheeky and yet tender smile.</p><p>“You got a deal, Stevie. <em>Thank you.”</em></p><p>“I’m glad you like it, sweetheart. I was going to give you a key to the apartment officially, kneel on one knee and all that-“</p><p>“WHAT?!”</p><p>
  <em>He wanted to do what?!</em>
</p><p>“-to ask you if you want to move in permanently, but I understand that we’ve been through a lot, <em>you</em>’ve been through a lot, so while the offer stands, I don’t want you to feel pressured or-“</p><p><em>Oh really?</em> Then why did he even tell you about it?</p><p>Your heart felt like beating its way out of your chest, the widest grin spreading on your lips. Staring at Steve as he was stuttering, you couldn’t decide whether he was nervous about asking, trying his luck, or was teasing you, knowing all too well what you were about to say.</p><p>Oh god, your head was spinning, <em>again-</em></p><p>“Yes!” you blurted out before you could think twice, shocking the stammering mess of Steve into silence.</p><p>“Really?!” he shot back in awe, his lips left parted in genuine surprise – and his expression was pure relief.</p><p>“Yes. If you mean it – and God help you if you don’t-“ And you were serious, if he was messing with you now— he wouldn’t, right? Steve wouldn’t joke about such important topic, about your life together.</p><p>“Of course I mean it-”</p><p>You squealed, closing the box you had nearly dropped in shock and hugged Steve as tight as you could, causing him to huff for the second time that day. Oh you were never letting go of him!</p><p>The crowd you entirely forgot about cheered and you jumped away from Steve as if burned, horrified that they had been following your reconciliation and displays of love this whole time-</p><p>And then you noticed the graduation caps in the air, a tradition celebrating the success of your year. You grinned at the image, catching Steve’s gaze.</p><p>“Go on,” he encouraged you, mirroring your grin when you reached for the square cap, swinging and sending it high in the air.</p><p>A yelp escaped you as you found yourself in the air as well in a blink of an eye, nestled in Steve’s arms as he laughed madly, pure delight shining from his eyes; and love. So much love.</p><p>You barely caught the cap, not really caring for it when in the arms of your man. You dropped a kiss to his lips, earning one in return and a few more, as you couldn’t get enough for each other after such a long time apart and so much unnecessary heartbreak.</p><p>You rested your foreheads against each other, tender meetings of lips, brushes of noses-</p><p>Steve winced and hissed in pain, causing you to withdraw and frown as you studied his face.</p><p>“Sorry, just… my nose…” he mumbled, seemingly embarrassed, “...tender.”</p><p>“From…?” you questioned, absolutely baffled. Steve sighed, but just one glare from you told him that you were not letting it go. You didn’t want him in any pain – you both lived through more enough of it in the past few days.</p><p>“Bucky punched me.”</p><p>“What?!” you blurted out, shocked to the core, and you braced yourself on Steve’s shoulders, your gaze automatically flickering through the crowd to find the culprit.</p><p>Why the <em>heck</em> would Bucky-</p><p>“Long story, tell you later,” Steve promised with a peck to your lips, signalling that the conversation was over. For now.</p><p>You had better things to do after all. So you only smiled in agreement – you couldn’t seem to stop smiling for some reason.</p><p><em>Wonder what that could be? Maybe because it finally feels like today </em>is<em> a win?</em></p><p>“I’m sure you will.”</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦- Bonus: -◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>It was the day after her own graduation when the blond was sitting on a park bench, light summer dress with cherry blossoms gently swirling around her knees, absentmindedly swiping through the apps on her phone, looking up every now and then to smile at the image of families enjoying the weather and freedom of summer.</p><p>She merely paused in her idly actions when the redhead woman she was waiting for seated herself next to her on the other end, sliding an envelope with a promised reward her way.</p><p>“As promised,” the redhead said disinterestedly, barely on a lower volume than a normal conversation would be and tugged a loose strand of her hair behind her sunglasses. “Pleasure doing business with you.”</p><p>The blond smiled softly, reaching for the envelope and subtly hid it in her purse. “Same. It was rather fun, actually.”</p><p>This time, a smile broke on the redhead’s lips as well, cocky, satisfied, but by any means false.</p><p>“Well, I heard you’re staying for your master’s. You contact Danvers if you want any more of that fun, da?”</p><p>“You better count on that, Rushman.”</p><p>“It’s Romanoff, actually,” the redhead smirked, side-eyeing the blond as she rose to her feet again, ready to go where her orders would take her. She spent one more glance at the other woman though; she had carried out her task perfectly, in a way that seem very natural. She’d make a good addition to their growing team and since Natasha was anything but unpolite… “Looking forward to working with you in the future, Carter.”</p><p>Sharon Carter felt a surge of pride and couldn’t but return the courtesy before the woman would walk away from her life for god knew how long.</p><p>“Feeling’s mutual.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading ♥ We’re over 40k into the series, so thank you if you stuck around :-*</p><p>Lemme know your thoughts?</p><p>I'm planning another addition to the Attached series called Words Lost in Translation. It’s more of an idea in my head, very little of the actual story written, but it will hopefully involve a bit jealousy… and smut. Just FYI.</p><p>If you want, come see me on tumblr where I pretend to know what I'm doing...</p><p>Stay happy and safe!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Words Lost in Translation (part 1)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There’s a new guy in your history class – a foreign student from Milan, Italy. Handsome, nice enough, pretty smart, actually.</p><p>But dammit, you should have known that a guy complimenting the way you say his name will be trouble – Bucky certainly thinks so from the start… and he’s not wrong.</p><p>Oh boy.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Many thanks to my lord and saviour @chase-your-dreams-away for her help with Italian bits which you’ll find in the fic :-* Seriously, big shout-out for her, she was awesome! Vocabulary at the end if you’re interested.</p><p>And many thanks to @wxstedhexrt for sending me the link and putting the plot bunny into my head in the first place :-*  <b>http://itssexualhour.co.vu/post/66129344570/when-i-was-twenty-and-very-stupid-i-was-utterly</b></p><p><b>Warnings:</b> smug insistent jerk, harassment(?), swearing, one remark about LBGT+ that could feel insensitive</p><p> </p><p>  <i> Vocabulary at the end of the chapter. </i></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Uhm… hi. Can I sit here? And uh—this is kinda ridiculous, but could I borrow a pen?”</p><p>A very much handsome young man was standing by your seat in the second row, week two of your first semester of master’s at uni, deep brown eyes, naturally tanned skin, relatively tall, his smile a fraction shy but honest.</p><p>What else could you have done that what you did?</p><p>Even if he wasn’t a relatively cute guy – mind you, you were dating Steve, very happily needless to say – you had no reason to be a bitch to a guy with slight accent you weren’t sure where to place, to a guy who was apparently a tiny bit lost on his first day at Bucky’s class.</p><p>“Yeah, sure. Seat all yours,” you smiled encouragingly, sliding him an extra pen on surface of the desk.</p><p>His smile widened brilliantly, exposing a set of perfectly narrow and white teeth. A twinkle appeared in his eye and you caught your heart skipping a beat.</p><p>Oh.<em> Ah-oh.</em></p><p>“Thank you so much. Something tells me that the prof wouldn’t appreciate me missing the first class of his <em>and</em> not taking notes on the second,” your mystery student grimaced and you chuckled, unable to help yourself.</p><p>First of all, yeah, kinda on point.</p><p>Second of all, not on point at all, because the said prof was Professor James Barnes. Bucky had a relatively benevolent policy when it came to his classes – yes, he appreciated when his students were paying attention, interacting even, but as long as you weren’t an ass or weren’t making noise (or both), you were fine.</p><p>You said so to your new classmate and he nodded in acknowledgement.</p><p>“Good to know… but you know what would be even better?” he asked, cocking his head to side curiously – or teasingly, it was hard to tell.</p><p>“Oh, what? I guess you need the syllabus too, right? I can-“</p><p>A low chuckle erupted from his throat, his eyes glimmering with amusement as his gaze gave you a not-exactly-subtle once-over you weren’t sure how you felt about.</p><p>Except you knew <em>exactly </em>how you felt about it, you just knew you shouldn’t feel that way.</p><p>“That would probably come in handy too, but I’d rather know the name of my lovely saviour with a pretty smile.”</p><p>You found yourself lowering your gaze, heat rising to your cheeks.</p><p>Here was a thing – this was most flirting you got in <em>like a year.</em> You adored Steve, you truly did, from the bottom of your heart, he was a dream come true… however, the fact that you two were dating was clear to <em>everyone.</em></p><p>And by everyone, you really meant <em>everyone;</em> considering the scene at your bachelor graduation and the mess around, it appeared that the whole damn <em>city</em> accepted the fact that you were Steve’s and thus no one even considered stepping on his toes.</p><p>Which was alright, <em>absolutely</em>, but… girl’s got needs, her ego craves a boost from time to time, even if it’s an appreciative glance from a stranger. Just a teeny-tiny bit of flirting.</p><p><em>No one</em> ever flirted with you anymore.</p><p>It was why it was way too easy to fall into the sweet trap as you introduced yourself, lifting you gaze only to see your companion wearing a lop-sided smile. He most definitely liked what he saw.</p><p>“Sweet name for a sweet girl. I’m Dan<em>i</em>el. I’m here for two semesters. And before you ask, it’s Milano, Italy,” he added quickly with a flash of his teeth again, holding out his hand – and upon having it accepted, he <em>most certainly</em> held it too long and swept his thumb over the back of your hand.</p><p>Which was the point when your head started yelling at you to stop this in an instant and draw a line. Yes, it felt amazing to be complimented to, but you had a boyfriend – a fucking <em>dreamy one,</em> no less – and you sure as hell didn’t want to give Daniel (how was his name pronounced again?) the wrong impression.</p><p>You retreated your hand with your smile turning tight-lipped, a cold pang of guilt stabbing you in your gut. Served you right.</p><p>“Nice to meet you, Daniel,” you said politely, and his expression shifted into one just a fraction patronizing.</p><p>“Da-<em>ni-</em>el. Kinda soft ‘i’. Da<em>ni</em>el. You’ll get a hang of it, I’m sure. Once more, please?”</p><p>Well, since he said <em>please. </em>“Da<em>-ni-</em>el,” you repeated more from a common curtesy, because honestly, the least you could do was to try to pronounce a name right for a handsome classmate.</p><p>
  <em>Shush it, it doesn’t matter if he’s handsome or not!</em>
</p><p>Daniel smiled widely, turning his palms up and gesturing towards you. <em>“Perfetto.</em> Amazing. You’re a natural.”</p><p>Before you could say thanks, Bucky entered the class and you felt the stab in your insides intensify as his eyes found you unmistakably, as if he had witnessed our interaction with the Italian and was telling you he’d rat you out to Steve if you didn’t stop right now.</p><p>Ridiculous – there was <em>nothing</em> to talk about. You were just being nice to the friendly stranger who happened to be in your class and whom you’d be meeting for at least a semester. That was all.</p><p>Except you still felt your heart pounding furiously, equally because of the feeling of getting caught doing something wrong and because of enjoying the attention. <em>Fuck</em>.</p><p>Okay, fine. You’d tell Steve about this guy on your own as a precaution. It would at least remind you to keep yourself in check, because honestly, you had no desire to get tangled up in some mess. You had no desire to taint the beautiful thing you had with Steve with anything at all, less so for a fling.</p><p>Content with yourself, you forced yourself to listen to Bucky’s lecture, taking notes like you were supposed to, determined to ignore Daniel’s presence.</p><p>Except Daniel interrupted him twice with questions and remarks about accuracy, drawing attention of the whole class to him and you felt hot in your face for a whole different reason than before – simply hating that someone sitting next to you was, <em>frankly,</em> quickly getting annoying.</p><p>And God, you had no idea how much.</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>Daniel Gallo was a relatively nice guy –social perhaps a little too much, but cute and open, easy to be friends with.</p><p>However, he had one fatal flaw, one you discovered very early on; he was the smuggest asshole you had ever met.</p><p>Perhaps it was his need to correct Bucky all the time – mostly failing, because Bucky knew his shit, he was just sparing you the tinniest details, leaving them for you to find in text books.</p><p>Maybe it was the fact that Daniel hadn’t given you the pen back, not even asking if he could keep it for the day, which you’d understand despite being protective of your pens; <em>except </em>he carried it around for two weeks, using it in front of you, returning it only upon your curious and slightly sarcastic comment about it.</p><p>Most definitely though, it was the fact that he was unbearably insistent on flirting with you – shamelessly – even <em>after</em> you grew so uncomfortable that you blatantly told him you had a boyfriend. He smirked, but backed off for the day, only to continue his advances the next week.</p><p>And then Jill, a girl from your year and a sort-of-friend, actually told you that he mentioned you in front of her, saying that you were two growing rather close, <em>if she knew what he meant,</em> and she admitted that she snorted into her latté when hearing it.</p><p>“What? What is it?” he had asked.</p><p>“I sincerely doubt that,” she claimed she had said, causing him to frown.</p><p>“Why? She gay? I don’t think so, I can tell this kind of stuff.”</p><p>“No. She’s taken. <em>Very happily,</em> I might add. Sorry to burst your bubble.”</p><p>“Nah. We’ll see about that,” he had replied supposedly and learning <em>that</em> felt like a punch to your stomach, causing you to see red.</p><p>You showed him ignorance incarnate the next week, but he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.</p><p>And then even <em>Bucky </em>noticed and kept casting dirty glares at you <em>both</em> as if you had done the worst crime.</p><p>To be honest, after that you <em>did</em> feel dirty; but you didn’t want to make a fuss.</p><p>In fact, you hadn’t even told Steve about Daniel besides informing him about the existence of a foreign student in your class.</p><p>Partly, shame was to blamed, because you kept wondering if you had done enough; perhaps you should have been more radical, sterner with Daniel to make him stop.</p><p>The other part of the reason was that Steve was under tons of pressure because of his academic duties; all professors had to publish an article in a prestige journals dedicated to their area of expertise at least once in two years – university policy – and working on that while teaching several classes was simply taking its toll on him. You really didn’t want to add to his stress.</p><p>It wasn’t even a big deal – Daniel <em>was</em> overly social and he probably said shit like the stuff you learned from Jill about other girls too. What was the golden rule? <em>When there’s nothing broken, don’t fix it.</em></p><p>There was nothing. No problem at all.</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>Except there was.</p><p>That morning, you were zoned out, because Steve snapped at you for not doing the dishes and didn’t bother to apologize till you left the apartment in a foul mood. Then he went to shower you with texts full of apologies, gradually growing into pure cutesy (involving a picture of his puppy eyes) and gifs and stuff and you ended up spending the majority of Bucky’s lecture on your phone.</p><p>By Bucky’s policy, that was perfectly okay, because he couldn’t care less if you were smiling like a loon into your phone – hell, if he noticed, he was probably glad, knowing shit had rained down and was now being fixed.</p><p>At the end of the class, Daniel graciously offered you his neat notes – and really, they looked <em>amazing</em> –, surprising you rather pleasantly.</p><p>“Oh… that’s… that’s very kind of you,” you stuttered, almost rendered speechless. Perhaps you truly were just making a big deal of things, seeing something that wasn’t-</p><p>“Anything for my principessa.“</p><p>The cloud that had been following you since you left the apartment made its comeback in a second, so fast that you actually felt your stomach drop to your feet.</p><p>Oh no, you were <em>not</em> imagining things – after all, Daniel even had a term of fucking <em>endearment </em>for you. And you might not be speaking Italian, but you understood <em>that</em> just fine.</p><p>“Perhaps one day she’ll repay me with a dinner date,” he continued with a supposedly charming smile, one you found disgusting at the moment.</p><p>You opened your mouth and swiftly closed it when no sound came out, scoffing at your naivety. Of course he wouldn’t give them for free, <em>jackass.</em> You shook your head with a wry smile and packed your untouched pencil case and papers, rising to your feet without another word.</p><p>A hand on your wrist stopped you from spinning on your heel and walking away.</p><p>“Aspetta, aspetta-” an all-to-familiar voice now whispered as you grinded your teeth and glared at the point of contact, skin on skin. He squeezed your wrist almost gently before letting go. “Wait. Here. Just… take a picture, okay? Where would we be if weren’t nice from time to time…”</p><p>You really didn’t want to give him the satisfaction… but you could really use his notes too.</p><p>
  <em>Dammit shit.</em>
</p><p>“Thank you,” you uttered, obediently taking a photo of the three pages of ridiculously perfect notes. Then, you met his gaze, face torn between stern and grateful. “Just… a reminder: I have a boyfriend.”</p><p>Slow smile spread on his lips and in that moment, you wanted to <em>punch him</em> in those perfect teeth of his. “Doesn’t stand in the way of admiring your beauty, does it, la mia ragazza…”</p><p>You had no clue what he said, but the <em>la mia</em> hinted you that he called you something his and that sent a surge of white-hot anger through your veins, mixing with humiliation. Your hand actually curled up in a fist, twitching – but instead of giving your piling anger an outlet, you took a deep breath, huffed and stalked away without a word of goodbye.</p><p>“See you next week!” Daniel called after you and you gripped the strap of your backpack tighter, squeezing your eyes shut.</p><p>That night, you got next to zero sleep, watching Steve’s passed-out form with tears in your eyes.</p><p>It was ridiculous, it was <em>nothing</em> and you were doing nothing wrong-- but you couldn’t make yourself to cuddle to Steve’s side despite desperately needing his wordless affirmation that everything was alright.</p><p>Just a simple embrace of his was like a promise of a brighter future. <em>With him.</em></p><p>Chuckling wryly into your palm, you wiped at your tears and snuggled to Steve, causing him to stir and hum, his arm circling around you on instinct, a barely-there sloppy kiss to your hair chasing more tears into your eyes along with a watery smile gracing your lips.</p><p>Yeah. Everything was going to be fine.</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p><em>Nothing</em> was fine.</p><p>Daniel was getting handsy if you could call it that. His thigh brushed yours multiple times the next class as he was sitting uncomfortably close and no amount of subtle pushing away (of you <em>and</em> your chair) was helping, so no, there could have been nothing coincidental about that.</p><p>You dug your nails into your palm and bit your cheek, but survived the lesson <em>somehow.</em></p><p>Bucky called for you at the end of the class, saving you further interaction with that Italian Satan, allowing you to breathe freely until he addressed the very problem your head was occupied with.</p><p>Bucky didn’t like Daniel’s attitude to begin with – which wasn’t surprising, seeing as he was being a prick – but he liked the fact Daniel seemed to be awfully close to you even less if his tone was anything to go by and his eyes screamed accusations and you fucking <em>hated yourself</em>, feeling the tell-tale of incoming tears burning in your eyes.</p><p>“I can talk to him, you know. Tell him to back off,” he offered then though, the grey with blue threads of his irises warming when he noticed your state.</p><p>The pressure in your gut eased upon learning Steve’s best friend didn’t only blame you and apparently wanted to help rather than presenting you with ‘you made your bed you lie in it’ attitude.</p><p>You even charmed a small smile for him, determined to do justice to your word: “Thank you… it’s fine. I’ll deal with him. I can handle one guy who doesn’t take no for an answer.”</p><p>And sure you could.</p><p>Daniel hugged you goodbye the next class, saying he was planning a get-away with his new friends for a weekend and it might be dangerous – <em>fucking absurd.</em></p><p>With your heart in your throat, you quickly patted his back and twisted from his arms, feeling dirty.</p><p>“No kiss for good luck?” he teased, that annoying smug smile on his face and you had to remind yourself that punching him was a <em>terrible</em> idea seeing as you were already walking a fine line dating a professor – who happened to be the best friend of one of <em>your</em> professors.</p><p>You didn’t need any problems – and for some reason, you were <em>certain</em> Daniel would make a big fucking deal of it. So <em>no punching</em> it was.</p><p>Your resolve crumbled to nothing when a sudden kiss landed on your cheek, the sensation cold like a kiss of the death itself.</p><p>Before you could as much as catch your breath which got knocked out of your lungs and not in the good way, your blood pressure skyrocketing along with your pulse to a point where your head began spinning… he was gone.</p><p>You gulped, eyes fluttering shut as the world seemed to sway from its place and you nearly jumped out of your skin when a hand grasped your arm.</p><p>“Daniel, go <em>fuck yourself-“</em> you snapped and glared at him- only to meet Bucky’s angry and very much concerned gaze.</p><p>“Too bad you didn’t say that about thirty seconds ago. You alright?” the brunet asked you, grip firm yet gentle as he steadied your shaky stance.</p><p>“Uh-huh,” you hummed, a little strangled noise. “And I am gonna tell him exactly this the next time I see him.”</p><p>“Not good enough for me. You’re not stupid, I know you’re not. But I’m not either,” he remarked, expression gravel. His tone hardened, unlike his eyes that studied you thoroughly, examining your face as if searching for <em>something</em>. “You think I didn’t notice the change of your wardrobe?”</p><p>An icy-cold shiver ran an up your spine, causing all your muscles to stiffen.</p><p><em>Fuck.</em> He noticed.</p><p>You supposed it wasn’t too hard to see and it was only natural that he kept an eye on you as on his best friend’s girlfriend. Yes, your Tuesday’s outfits suddenly <em>somehow</em> lacked skirts and anything with a deeper neckline than a turtle-neck, simply in hopes to turn Daniel off or at least not to pluck up his interest further; an action that had taken zero effect.</p><p>But being called out like this? That <em>stung. </em>It hurt your pride and it hurt by its very nature, because it reminded you how pathetic you were, unable to get rid of a jerk who didn’t take no for an answer – in a public space, with witnesses for god’s sake. It made you feel weak and incompetent.</p><p>So you looked Professor Barnes dead in the eye, your lips a thin line, your voice cold as you spoke the only words that made sense at that time:</p><p>“I—I have no idea what you’re talking about.”</p><p>So what if you stuttered? So what if his brows furrowed with what was a damn patronizing worry? You didn’t care as you gathered your stuff without another word exchanged.</p><p>You made a mental note to wear your favourite outfit the next week, forgoing pants and turtle-necks, because you could <em>fucking</em> take care of yourself.</p><p>Penny encouraged you, clearly having faith in you too, but she also gently reminded you that you <em>could</em> report him.</p><p>As if. Brining more attention to your person was the last thing you needed.</p><p>You could do this on your own, thank you very much.</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>For all your bravado, you asked a girl you barely knew by name if you could sit next to her and nearly cried when she said yes <em>and</em> another girl seated herself to your other side within two minutes. You even smiled for yourself contentedly, seeing a dawn of a new age.</p><p>And then Daniel fucking Gallo walked in and charmed his way to the seat next to you anyway, somehow managing to scare off your original saviour as well.</p><p>Well, too bad for him; you had your confidence back along with your outfit that suited you much better and you were going to tell that jerk to fuck off, just like you promised to Bucky <em>and</em> yourself.</p><p>“You thought I wasn’t coming today, la mia bella ragazza? I couldn’t bear not seeing you…” he started off again and you eyed him head to toe, causing a smile spread on his face. You had found that smile <em>cute</em> once, the kind of smile you would let a person get away with murder for.</p><p>Now it was making you want to <em>commit</em> murder.</p><p>“I was hoping actually.”</p><p>“Oh, sassy today, are we? What’s wrong?”</p><p><em>What’s wrong? </em>He had the audacity to-</p><p>
  <em>You can’t punch him, you can’t punch him, think of the bureaucracy and your future… </em>
</p><p><em>What about my </em>satisfaction?</p><p>
  <em>Zip it!</em>
</p><p>You took a deep breath and watched that asshole take a seat next to you, automatically shuffling his chair closer.</p><p>“Daniel, look-“</p><p>“Zitta, zitta…” he interrupted you softly, but the manner he spoke with only pissed you off further. <em>Fuck Italian.</em></p><p>“I don’t know what that means and frankly, I don’t care. I’m taken. I said so, several times. So back off,” you hissed, watching your volume despite the prof not being in yet – you didn’t need a scene. You were disgustingly certain Daniel had brought enough attention to you already – in fact, you were <em>shocked </em>Steve hadn’t learned about this yahoo yet with how quickly gossip spread on this university.</p><p>And that Bucky hadn’t told him-- <em>God, </em>you hoped Bucky wasn’t saving it for today’s boys night-</p><p>To your utter shock and annoyance, Daniel didn’t seem bothered in the slightest, smiling widely as if amused at your antics. “Am I putting doubts in that bella testolina of yours?”</p><p>Your blood boiled at such implication… and maybe there was a thin flow of steam coming from your ears too? Because you couldn’t fucking <em>believe</em> this guy, implying such thing-</p><p>--okay, you weren’t sure what exactly he said, honestly, but you understood just enough. No doubts. You were perfectly sure he was an asshole you wanted to have nothing to do with.</p><p>“No! No way! <em>Jesus-</em> okay. Let’s be clear. Was... <em>this,”</em> you gestured between the two of you in self-explanatory manner, “flattering at first? Yes. But seriously, now you’re just making me uncomfortable.”</p><p>As if appealing to his conscience would work…</p><p>“Then give in. Just one little dinner,” he insisted, showing a small space between his thumb and forefinger, grinning as if he hadn’t been listening to you <em>at all.</em> “What could it hurt? Who knows, maybe I’ll show you a real good time and you’ll forget all about some boring boyfriend of yours… who I’m not sure he exists actually-“</p><p>You inhaled sharply, <em>wheezing </em>in fact, heat of righteous anger flooding your whole body. That <em>fucker-!</em></p><p>“Oh for fuck’s sake-“</p><p>
  <em>You can’t punch him. You. Can. Not. Punch. Him.</em>
</p><p>You repeated those words to yourself like a magical mantra that was losing its effect, because there was <em>nothing</em> you wanted more. Maybe except for Steve punching him, that would be quite a show… but it was not an option.</p><p>For one, Steve, <em>thank heavens,</em> still didn’t know about Daniel’s unwanted advances and for two, chances were that he would show a little less restraint and you wouldn’t blame him one bit. But it would bring a whole new set of trouble, so you <em>had to</em> deal with this alien of a man on your own.</p><p>And right now, staring into that <em>stupidly smug face of his,</em> you only saw one possible solution.</p><p>“Okay, fine.”</p><p>You almost slapped your hand over your mouth as soon as the words left your lips, numbing horror overwhelming your body.</p><p>What the fuck did you just do?!</p><p>“Yes!” Daniel whisper-yelled, pumping his fist and you noticed that the class was gradually falling silent, probably with Bucky’s approach – but there was still enough chatter going on for you to save the situation <em>somehow</em>.</p><p>“-but you have to earn it,” you added in an equally hushed tone.</p><p>He cocked his eyebrow, as if smelling your fear that arrived instantly after the rash decision he provoked from you. “I won’t back out from a challenge, bellezza.”</p><p>
  <em>Yeah, I friggin’ bet.</em>
</p><p>Your mind was racing hundred miles an hour, choosing to ignore the whatever-it-meant petname in favour of the crisis at hand.</p><p>“How about… you ask the professor a question-“ Oh Bucky was going to have your head on a stick for that, but hey, he had <em>offered </em>to help you- “-and if he answers wrong, I’ll go to <em>one</em> dinner with you, tonight.”</p><p>…that would be alright, right? Just to get rid of him. One dinner so he would get the clue at last. You’d be a hateful bitch, possibly embarrassing him, doing just about anything for him to finally stop making your life a living hell.</p><p>Yeah, looking back at the product of your frantic brain, it had been an excellent thinking actually. <em>Go impulsive me!</em></p><p>Hell, tonight was perfect for it, with Steve having a night off with Bucky and you originally planning on studying with Penny. You would tell Steve <em>after</em>, explaining everything—or maybe before? Bucky was your witness that you weren’t exactly an enthusiastic participant in this, surely he would help you explain <em>and</em> would be able to distract Steve-</p><p>But really, that was all theoretical, because Daniel would have to catch Bucky off guard first, which was very unlikely. Bucky knew his subject through and through and Daniel’s chances were extremely low anyway.</p><p>“Easy-peasy,” Daniel grinned confidently, making you internally roll your eyes at his overconfident ass.</p><p>Or perhaps you had let your annoyance show for real? You couldn’t tell anymore, the adrenaline rush in your veins making certain things too sharp and other dull. For instance, you registered Daniel’s eyes flickering towards the teacher’s stand, his already wide smile growing enough to nearly tear his mouth.</p><p>“Even easier when we have a substitute.”</p><p>“What,” you blurted out, head snapping to the professor at the front.</p><p>A flash of blond hair and a shade darker beard. Broad shoulders. Blue eyes of which you simply <em>knew</em> they had a glint of green in them.</p><p>Your heart positively stopped in your chest, your lips parting in mute horror.</p><p>“Oh <em>shit.”</em></p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Vocabulary:<br/>Perfetto - perfect<br/>Principessa – princess<br/>Aspetta – wait<br/>La mia (bella) ragazza – my (pretty) girl<br/>Zitta – shh<br/>Bella testolina – pretty head</p><p>Eh, I swear the first idea was giving off less of a harassment vibe. But it gets better, I promise ;)</p><p>I apologize to Italians if you find this offensive, but it was in fact not my intention at all for Daniel to be a representation of a whole nation. I figured there are insistent jerks all over the globe. (And I happened to have an Italian real-life template, not gonna lie.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Words Lost in Translation (part 2)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Oh, you're in trouble. It looks like your substitute professor - no other than Steve Rogers, your boyfriend - will have to save you from having to go on a date with Daniel. </p><p>Perfetto.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings: smug insistent jerk, mentions of harassment, brief panic, threat of violence if you squint, swearing (a lot), and some possessive bf SR</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Had your brain had been working, you would have been able to appreciate how fine the man at the professor stand was looking – wearing a perfectly-fitting dress pants, cream-coloured shirt and a dark suit jacket.</p><p>Had the situation been even a tiny bit different, you would have been <em>thrilled</em> to see him, instantly comforted by his mere presence, insanely grateful to have him distract you after you dealt with the menace of a guy claiming the seat next to you.</p><p>But the circumstances were what they were and you were positively mortified, because your unwanted suitor was about to challenge your beloved boyfriend to a duel without visibly throwing in a gauntlet; without Steve’s knowledge.</p><p>Then again, Steve might know all about your escapades with Daniel as far you were concerned, because him being here, while it could have been caused by many different things, was most definitely Bucky’s doing. He had probably told Steve everything.</p><p>For a brief moment, Steve’s gaze caught yours, lingering for just a moment, long enough to let you see the uncharacteristic cold of his beautiful cerulean irises, causing you to gulp in fright.</p><p>You were sure you were going to be sick, your stomach somersaulting when you imagined how this could turn out.</p><p>Oh Steve was mad, okay. He was <em>very mad</em>, at <em>you – </em>and you were so completely <em>screwed-</em></p><p>A small smile graced his lips, a simple minute shift that allowed you breathe again. Well, if anything, he was about to be civil about it.</p><p>Or not. His brows furrowed as his gaze moved a little bit to the right to your companion, the gentle barely-there curve of his mouth straightening instantly. Oh, he <em>absolutely</em> knew who Daniel was.</p><p>“Good morning, almost afternoon, class. For those who don’t know me, I’m Professor Rogers and for today, I’ll be taking over Professor Barnes’ lecture,” Steve introduced himself simply and despite the situation at hand, you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach at his ‘professor voice’ – and <em>yes</em>, that was a thing, you had found yourself on the receiving end of it multiple times…always pleasant ones. “He had to leave because of an urgent personal matter-“</p><p>
  <em>I bet he fucking had to-</em>
</p><p>“-and he sends his apologies for not letting you know sooner, not that he let <em>me</em> know particularly on time.”</p><p>A few chuckles sounded around the class as Steve’s eyes roamed over it with a quirk to his brow.</p><p>You practically feel Daniel radiate smugness next to you as he leaned closer, whispering in your ear conspiratorially, sensing an easy win.</p><p>“I hope you like Italian cuisine, <em>bellezza,”</em> he hummed self-assuredly and you gave him ana annoyed side-eye as he already bragged, thinking himself a winner of your bet.</p><p>And then it dawned to you, through the fog of unexpected events.</p><p>There was an upside in Steve being in the class after all; if Daniel had been tasked to catch <em>Steve</em> off guard… well. Even with Steve apparently being informed late about the substitute situation, your problem was solved; no dinner with the jackass sitting next to you.</p><p>You just hoped that he would leave you alone after failing to earn today’s date.</p><p>And that Steve wouldn’t see much of your ‘normal’ interaction with Daniel, because otherwise you’d be in even bigger trouble than you already were. Or Daniel would. Or <em>Steve</em> would. Probably all of you now that you thought about it.</p><p>You mentally prayed Steve had more restraint than your Italian classmate; seeing as Professor Rogers’ shoulders seemed even broader than usual, tense and intimidating, just like the strange glint in his eyes despite his easy smiles, you assumed your prayers should be very much needed.</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>About thirty minutes into the lesson, it appeared that the big guy up there took mercy on you, because Daniel had been surprisingly well-behaved, at least when it came to you and kept his hands to himself. Not that you felt like celebrating that, not with Steve probably knowing all about the previous advances anyway.</p><p>Otherwise, he had been acting like himself; he had already tried to correct Steve twice and failed, just like with three attempts to ask a question in order to find a gap in Steve’s knowledge. Every time Steve cooled him down, growing visibly less patient with him, caused you to bite into your cheek to supress a smile, because you might have been in deep shit, but you could at least enjoy the show.</p><p>And Daniel getting his ass handed to him in a duel that Steve might and might not know about (oh, he <em>knew,</em> we was well-aware that he had the chance to show his dominance, alright, and yes, somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought it was maybe a tiny bit stupid, the stroking of his ego, and that it was also ultimately hot) – was certainly a sight to behold.</p><p>Out of blue, a finger poked your thigh, making you nearly jump out of your skin, your head automatically whirling to Daniel in irritation at his intrusion.</p><p>The angry ‘WHAT’ got stuck in your throat when he winked at you, his whole expression lit up as a kid’s on Christmas Day.</p><p><em>Shit,</em> you could practically see the metaphorical lightbulb above his head as he made a show of pointedly raising his hand to catch professor’s attention.</p><p>You held your breath as Steve noticed him, mild annoyance creeping into his voice as he stopped explaining his thing and encouraged Daniel to speak.</p><p>“Yes, Mr. Gallo?” Steve sighed, apparently torn between trying hard not to show his irritation and not caring at all if it was on display.</p><p>To your utter horror, your classmate smiled brightly, lowering his hand—and visibly pointing at <em>you.</em></p><p>“Will she go to dinner with me tonight?”</p><p>Your vision turned black for a second and it seemed that the whole world just stopped moving. Every shuffle of paper, every faint whisper, <em>absolutely everything</em> went silent in the class. Hell, your heart probably gave out too, pointedly quiet.</p><p>The silence sounded so ominous with the anticipation of a storm that even dropping a pin would be a deafening noise in the frozen space. You would swear that <em>everyone</em> sans Daniel and Steve held their breaths… because despite Daniel’s obvious ignorance, the whole damn year – if not the whole damn school – was aware that you were with Steve.</p><p>Your gaze reluctantly refocused on the man in question, terrified of what you would see – and you met with the sight of Steve’s eyebrows practically disappearing in his hairline as a sign of surprise; but his eyes, oh his eyes definitely darkened, that much you could tell even from a distance. And his shoulders squared, seemingly enormous in the dark suit.</p><p><em>Oh God, please don’t let him snap at Daniel. Or me. But now mostly Daniel, because we </em>so<em> don’t need another scandal-</em></p><p>Your eyes registered what he was saying before your ears did; a single syllable spoken on an even volume, in fact spoken <em>softly</em> even… and somehow carrying more menace than if shouted.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Daniel grew fucking radiant next to you, completely unaware of what was happening as the whole class released a breath, because no one lost an arm or got their neck broken in the purely verbal exchange. Seriously, you didn’t understand how could Daniel be so completely oblivious to the fact that the question he had asked was much more severe and daring than he could ever imagine.</p><p>He thought he won and you, honestly, were torn, because Daniel created an amazing paradox that made your brain, already numb from the emotion in Steve’s voice – or the lack of it –, switch off altogether. After all, if you <em>didn’t want to </em>go out with Daniel, then Steve was correct thus you didn’t have to go on the date. However, in a way, you had <em>promised </em>to Daniel to go.</p><p>You couldn’t wrap your damn mind around it and Steve kept glaring at Daniel as the guy basked in his supposed victory, until he noticed the professor still staring and actually had the decency to shrink into his seat for a bit.</p><p>Steve’s gaze flickered to you – sending you into a cardiac arrest with the intensity of his glare, speaking thousands of words and yet remaining scarily silent – before he averted it in favour of staring down the main culprit.</p><p>“And I’ll have to ask both of you to come talk to me after the class is finished.”</p><p>Oh yes. You were totally screwed and all <em>three</em> of you were in trouble.</p><p>Daniel didn’t seem to realize such though, spinning to you on his chair openly the moment Steve dismissed the class as if he hadn’t been scolded by the professor.</p><p>He actually had the audacity to grin at you so cockily that you considered punching his face, saving Steve the trouble of doing it himself (he did look like that could be what he was about to do and you’d rather if he didn’t). If <em>you</em> socked Daniel in his jaw, you’d get the satisfaction and Steve would keep his record without staining it with <em>lost his temper while on the job. </em>Fucking win-win. <em>Let’s do this.</em></p><p>“So. What time am I picking you up?” Daniel hummed confidently, arching an eyebrow in challenge.</p><p>Yep, punching it was. You couldn’t <em>believe </em>this guy-</p><p>Refraining from violence for few more moments, before the urge truly turned unbearable, you took a deep breath and nodded in Steve’s direction, taking care to refer to him properly: “Professor Rogers wanted to talk to us.”</p><p>Daniel rolled his eyes at your poor attempt at deflection and clicked his tongue. “Come on, he can wait five more seconds.”</p><p>“Rude to keep him waiting,” you opposed, irked by his attitude… <em>again.</em> Your mind was made. “Plus, he was right, you know. I’m not going out with you.”</p><p>Daniel’s eyebrows jumped, one corner of his lips quirking. “Bet’s a bet-“</p><p>“Mr. Gallo?” Steve’s impatient voice interrupted the bragger, who turned to him in acknowledgement, not wanting to make him <em>too mad,</em> apparently. As long he was concerned, he had you in his pocket, after all. But did he? “I don’t have all day. And if you could bring the poor girl you’re apparently pursuing with you.”</p><p>At that, even you shot Steve a look; his tone was speaking volumes, but you had a hard time reading it anyway.</p><p><em>Poor girl? Really? </em>Was that a promise of what you’d be once he was done with you?</p><p>You swallowed your fear, ignoring the pounding of your heart and swiftly stood up, stalking to the stand with Daniel at your heels.</p><p>Steve’s strict gaze flickered between the two of you as he crossed his arms on his chest expectantly.</p><p>“So. You two want to tell me what that was about? Are we back to high school or what?”</p><p>“I’m sorry about hi-“</p><p>“There was a bet,” Daniel exclaimed matter-of-factly, causing you to whirl around to shot him an incredulous look.</p><p>Really? Straight to the point? He truly had no shame, did he?</p><p>But then again, you learned that a while ago.</p><p>“A bet,” Steve parroted sceptically. “You chose academic soil for betting… Professor Barnes’s class, no less?”</p><p>Daniel ignored the fact that Steve was looking down at <em>him</em> as if he was a low-life and gave you a side eye.</p><p>“Yes, Professor, we did-“</p><p>“And you think that it’s appropriate? Letting it interrupt a class on top of that, dragging a professor into it?”</p><p>You squirmed, wrapping your arms around yourself. Steve spared you a brief glance before he continued glaring murder at your classmate.</p><p>You knew that what you had done was probably wrong, but you had expected Bucky, who <em>was </em>pretty easy-going for a scholar; and it had seemed like a better option than punching Daniel.</p><p>It had got enormously out of hand, you were aware, but more than having a prof involved, you regretted having involved <em>Steve.</em></p><p>You guessed it was time to face the music.</p><p>“I truly apologize, Professor Rogers,” you whispered guiltily, lowering your gaze so you didn’t have to face him, his expression no doubt screaming disappointment. Something told you that he had been hoping that Daniel was to blame – which he <em>was</em>, but not entirely – and now you were telling him that nope, you were the culprit… sorta. You felt your body shiver as you sensed Steve’s attention shift to you. You also heard the desk creak slightly under his weight – he must have leaned onto it.</p><p>“The bet was <em>your</em> idea?”</p><p>You squeezed your eyes shut, actually feeling tears pricking your eyes. You nodded and Steve’s reaction was immediate; it was impossible to miss the way his voice softened a fraction when he asked the next question and it made you feel even worse—but <em>goddammit, </em>if Daniel just had left you in peace-</p><p>“Why don’t you tell me what it was about?”</p><p>“We’ve been flirting-“ Daniel started off, only to get interrupted by a harsh voice.</p><p>“I asked <em>her,</em> Mr. Gallo! And mind your tone,<em> please.”</em></p><p>The coldness toward Daniel curiously warmed your heart, a tiny relief spreading in your tense shoulders.</p><p>You could do this – this was <em>Steve</em>. He was on your side – at least as long as your <em>suitor,</em> as he had so elaborately put it, was around. Then it might be another story, but you had to deal with one problem at a time.</p><p>You cleared your throat and minded to straighten your back, raising your gaze to meet Steve’s. You could feel the encouragement he was giving you, but you could also feel the anger bubbling under the surface rolling off of him.</p><p>“Eh, you see, Professor Rogers, it’s just like you said. Daniel was—uhm, he-“ you stumbled over your words nervously as you caught the glint of fury in Steve’s eyes, distracting yourself by pointing at the guy as if it was wasn’t painfully obvious who you were talking about.</p><p>“He has been… <em>pursuing</em> me for a while now-“ Steve’s jaw clenched at the admission and even though you supposed he already knew that, it wasn’t any more pleasant to hear that you’d been keeping it from him <em>for a while now</em>. “I-I suppose I wasn’t sending clear enough signals that—ugh, that I wasn’t- <em>wasn’t</em> interested,” your low voice picked up volume as you emphasized that you were <em>not</em> flirting back, pleading Steve to understand… but at the same time, you couldn’t mask the guilt you were feeling and you wanted him to know that you were sorry.</p><p>Steve didn’t avert your gaze for a second, listening intently, body rigid.</p><p>You quickly hurried to explain the rest, your pulse dangerously high, your face burning.</p><p>“Anyway, he was getting-- <em>rather daring</em> and annoying. So, I thought I’d end it once for all. I agreed to go to dinner with him if he managed to ask the professor a question he would answer incorrectly. He apparently thought that <em>this</em> was the most brilliant approach... I’m sorry for- I’m sorry.”</p><p>The silence that followed was heavy, sneaking into your lungs and making it hard to breathe, Steve’s unwavering gaze at you causing you to feel like you shrunk several feet. To anyone else, he might appear calm and collected – but you knew him. You could see the unspoken rage, boiling behind the unnaturally cold blue of his irises; what you couldn’t decode was whom it was aimed at… more. </p><p>And you couldn’t take it anymore, looking away from him, fighting the tears of anger, humiliation and <em>shame</em>.</p><p>“I see,” Steve stated evenly, rising to his full height. “You’ve got anything to add, Mr. Gallo?”</p><p>That <em>asshole</em> had the audacity to keep his stupid smug smile on his stupidly handsome face as he shrugged.</p><p>“Not much. I would probably disagree on the <em>signals-“ </em>he echoed your words sarcastically, earning an unimpressed glare from Steve; upon that, he cleared his throat and lost about 2% of his arrogance. “While I am sorry for interrupting your class, I am not. Thank you, Professor Rogers, you’ve been very helpful.”</p><p>You breathed in shakily when you saw Steve’s hand clench into a fist, a minute jerk of his muscles as he probably felt fresh surge of anger at Daniel’s audacity; the air shifted in a matter of seconds, Steve’s aura changing instantly.</p><p>You held your breath in dismay. Surely Steve wouldn’t-</p><p>“Oh was I?” Steve challenged the younger man wryly, scanning him head to toe. And <em>that</em> you didn’t expect, because… because it looked like Steve was about to bring the pissing contest that had been going on during the class to another level. His next words left no room for discussion. “To her certainly. I answered correctly, so she is free.”</p><p>You blinked in shock, not following. Was he about to argue for the ‘she doesn’t want to go, so she won’t go’ point you had considered pulling before?</p><p>Daniel chuckled nervously as he sensed the air change as well. The strangest thing was, Steve didn’t seem angry. He looked almost… smug.</p><p>
  <em>…why?</em>
</p><p>“Eeeeh, <em>no, </em>you didn’t-“</p><p>“Yes I did,” Steve said resolutely, easing his posture in order to tower slightly above your classmate. “She won’t be having dinner with you tonight.”</p><p>“Yes, she will,” Daniel chuckled derisively as if it was far too obvious and Steve was being stupid. “She said that if-“</p><p>“I heard her. I heard you too. And I’m telling that she won’t be having dinner with you tonight.”</p><p>Daniel’s confusion was almost palpable, but then again, so was yours.</p><p>“She’ll be having dinner with me.”</p><p>The shriek coming out of your mouth-- you only imagined that, right? You did <em>not</em> release that sound even if Steve just--- he- did he just tell Daniel that-?</p><p>You felt yourself turn into a statue, eyes probably tragicomically wide when Steve’s tension vanished, his lips spreading in a positively sweet smile, sending it your direction. There was no malice in it – for now. However, you could tell he was enjoying the way he rendered both you and Daniel speechless <em>immensely. </em> </p><p>There was no mistaking the sparks of mischief and possession, barely covered by the genuine affection shining in his gaze.</p><p>“Like most of the nights,” he added for a good measure and you were ready to pass out. And <em>then</em> he made it all better: “You liked the lecture, sweetheart? I know Bucky’s hard to live up to.”</p><p>The petname snapped you from the trance; you swallowed the fear of consequences – the fight-in-making with Steve and a fit from Daniel –, and returned the smile, taking the two steps to Steve’s side.</p><p>He tenderly grasped your forearm and slipped two fingers under your ¾ sleeve to caress the sensitive skin, sending pleasant shivers up your spine.</p><p>Alright… in for a penny, in for a pound it was. You threw caution out of the window, along with the worries about the upcoming dealing with Steve; like you said, one problem at a time. If Steve had decided to show Daniel hat you were, well, you could as well join.</p><p>“Well, uhm, if anything, I think you certainly left an impression, Steve.”</p><p>One corner of Steve’s lips lifted in a lop-sided smile as he must have remembered that he had doubted doing exactly that when he had entered Bucky’s class the first time and unwittingly become your muse.</p><p>Also, he probably appreciated you not saying a word about the boys’ night, which was bound to get in the way of you two in fact having the aforementioned dinner.</p><p>“That’s all I can ask for, sweetheart,” he murmured, arm snaking around your waist and gently pulling you to his side, sending a clear message.</p><p>
  <em>She’s mine. Fuck off.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No.”</em>
</p><p>Safe in Steve’s arms, you almost had to laugh at the incredulous sound Daniel made.</p><p>Steve’s smile slipped, on the other hand, his demeanour hard and uncompromising.</p><p>“Yes,” came his reply, scarily calm as his shoulders squared. </p><p>And yet, despite his stern posture, the kiss he dropped to your hairline was soft and had you automatically melting into him no matter how taken aback you were at the turn of events.</p><p><em>Comfort and safety. </em>He had you.</p><p><em>Protectiveness melting into possessiveness. </em>He’d never let this filthy guy touch you again-</p><p>“No way. You- you’re not-“ Daniel stuttered, actually taking a step back as a doubtful chuckle left his lips. It made your blood boil that he suddenly thought so little of you, that you could never – because Steve was clearly out of your league. Well, you certainly thought so sometimes, but that wasn’t the point. It was insulting, really, how shocked he seemed. “You’re not dating a-”</p><p>“Professor? This specimen?” you tried to finish his sentence, making a point of laying a palm on Steve’s chest. His warm one covered your hand in an instant and you couldn’t but look up at him and smile gratefully, suddenly feeling much stronger. “Why? Because he’s too good for me? Maybe. But maybe he thinks I’m principessa too.”</p><p>Due to the close proximity, you could feel every muscle tense in Steve’s body, his fingers digging into your flesh, and only then it occurred to you that trying to sass Daniel by throwing his special petname for you back at him was <em>not</em> the best idea, seeing as it was a new and very much unwelcomed information for Steve.</p><p>Welp, too late.</p><p>“It’s—that’s not the--- dating professors is against the-“</p><p>“Rules?” Steve interrupted, raising a challenging eyebrow. He stepped forward, slipping from the embrace, your hand limply sliding down his chest and falling to your side as he stood between you and Daniel as a human shield. It was comforting, to be honest. And kinda hot. “It’s not. Educate yourself better at the university policy if you feel the need. Then maybe you’d realize that <em>harassing women</em> is against the rules <em>and</em> good morality. From what I heard, that’s exactly what you’ve been doing.”</p><p>Your stomach clenched and you weren’t sure how to feel about that. Was that what Bucky told him? That Daniel had been harassing you? Not that it wasn’t the truth you guessed, but you expected Bucky to paint you in worse light. That was… <em>unexpected </em>to say at least.</p><p>What did it mean for you though? Did that mean that Steve wasn’t angry with you at all then? But—<br/>Or was this an act for Daniel? You didn’t think so… mostly because you had never heard Steve so cold and calculating and honestly, he was scaring you a bit as he towered over Daniel – even if it was to protect you.</p><p>Daniel’s throat worked visibly as he faced Steve, having to look up not only because Steve was taller, but also because his mere presence, as always, felt enormous.</p><p>“So, Mr.Gallo, I’d truly appreciate if you left <em>my girlfriend</em> alone before this grows into a bigger problem.”</p><p><em>Fuck,</em> if you weren’t worried about how Steve would react when you were alone – he... he wouldn’t break up with you over this asshole, would he? – you’d actually be very proud of your boyfriend and his choice of words. That was the best indirect threat you could actually think of.</p><p>
  <em>Before I lose my patience. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Before you regret it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Before we take this outside.</em>
</p><p>Anything like that could be considered dangerous for Steve’s position, giving Daniel ammunition – he could complain that Steve was threatening him. But not this.</p><p>“Do we have an understanding?” Steve practically growled, causing Daniel to wince and take another minor step back.</p><p>“Yes,” he shrieked, quickly swallowing to even his high-pitched voice. He didn’t dare to as much as peek around Steve’s form to look at you. “Crystal clear, Professor Rogers.”</p><p>“Glad to hear that.”</p><p>You could imagine the wolfish smile Steve gave him as Daniel hurried to pick up his stuff and swiftly walked out of the auditorium without sparing you a glance or a single word.</p><p>Though you would swear you heard him muttering under his breath; it sounded a lot like…. troia? But you couldn’t be sure, because you <em>still </em>couldn’t speak Italian and the only thing it reminded you of was the Troy War and something told you that was not it. In fact, you were pretty sure it was some sort of an insult – just giving another reason for Steve’s glare to follow him and remaining fixed on the door long moments after he was gone.</p><p>Steve sighed heavily and as you saw his torso expand with an inhale, you felt like he sucked out all the air from the room. Somehow, even with Daniel gone, the atmosphere tasted ominous – if not worse than before.</p><p>Steve didn’t look at you as he grabbed his things, beckoning you to gather yours. He didn’t meet your gaze when he was waiting for you.</p><p>“Come on. Let’s get out of this damn room before I lose my mind and do something I’ll regret later.”</p><p>Yeah. It was definitely worse than before.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Vocabulary:<br/>Belleza - pretty chick... (really, I just simply assured that it’s something a smug jackass like Daniel would call a woman)<br/>Troia - bitch </p><p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>Also, thank you for your reactions to the previous chapter, they seemed to vary from calling her a dumbass and feeling sorry for her, mostly calling Daniel a jerk and other names... <br/>I hope you enjoyed this one too. Buckle up for the last part, people, and don’t forget to read the warnings before diving in 😉</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Words Lost in Translation (part 3)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve is most definitely not impressed with what happened and had been happening in the class… the question is: what does it mean for you?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>Warnings: 18+, nsfw, </b> 3.5k worth of smut, fingering, PIV, possessive Steve, (in)appropriate use of a mirror, cumplay (if you squint), feelings… and swearing (always)</p><p>A/N: for @donutloverxo, because she mentioned a request which I couldn’t fulfil (because I’m really bad at those)… so I hope this makes up for it :-*<br/>(Even if it’s nowhere close to the good stuff you and others produce) Happy kinktober and early happy birthday, sweet! ♥</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>‘Let’s get out of this damn room before I lose my mind and do something I’ll regret later,’</em> he had said and the words echoed in your ears whenever you found the courage to glance at his profile, the city a blur behind the window.</p><p>He didn’t say nothing more – and neither did you.</p><p>The whole ride back to the apartment was scarily silent. In the long months you had been with Steve – the amazing, sweet months with only few bumps on the road – you had never seen his face so emotionless. So unreadable.</p><p>His fingers were gripping the wheel with enough vigour to turn his knuckles white, shoulders squared and tense, breathing clearly too deep for you to believe he was alright.</p><p>The big question was whether he was more upset or angry.</p><p>You couldn’t decide which would be worse – but you didn’t dare to ask which one it was anyway, even if all you wanted was to do exactly that.</p><p>Or perhaps you’d be keen on just begging, anything to fill the silence. <em>Please, don’t be mad at me. I can explain,</em> you yearned to say, but you couldn’t make yourself to reach out when Steve was driving, worried you’d break his concentration.</p><p>So you accepted the silence as a punishment, your hands clenching and unclenching in a desperate need to do <em>something</em> with yourself besides either talking or impatiently tapping your foot.</p><p>Rationally, you knew you had a perfectly good explanation for why you had acted the way you had with Daniel and you <em>knew</em> you had acted according to your best conscience, because you hadn’t really had a choice. But not telling Steve was another matter entirely, no matter your good intentions.</p><p>There was a saying about good intentions after all, wasn’t there? The road to hell…</p><p>The pair of you entered the apartment and lost your shoes still without uttering a word – but you counted the fact that Steve took your heavy backpack for you when leaving the car as a good sign.</p><p>He walked to the bedroom, shrugging off his suit jacket and discarding it carelessly on his way. Seeing his back, cladded a cream shirt, receding and leaving you standing in the narrow hallway, the lump forming in your throat for the past half an hour grew suffocating.</p><p>You were <em>this</em> close to losing it, an uncomfortable tug pulling at your stomach, bile rising to your mouth.</p><p>Tears burned in your eyes, but you blinked them away with a sigh as you made your way to the kitchen to grab a drink – possibly something stronger than water.</p><p>“Come here, babygirl,” sounded lowly but resolutely from the bedroom, causing you to freeze mid-step, your heart skipping a one painful beat before kicking in with a furious pace.</p><p>At the same time, a terrible weight went plummeting from your chest, finally allowing you to breathe in freely.</p><p>At least Steve was saying <em>something</em>, adding a petname no less, so hopefully, the crisis was averted – or at least wasn’t as disastrous as it had seemed.</p><p>Not intending to let him wait even a second longer than necessary, you followed his footsteps instead, finding him seated on the foot of the bed. He looked up at you as you wavered in the doorway, his eyes a silent plea – or an order, you couldn’t seem to decide – for you to come closer.</p><p>Other than from his eyes, always so expressive, you couldn’t read a single emotion on his face; you figured that hearing out his request was the simplest way to learn where his head was at. You took the last reluctant steps, finding yourself standing between his legs, his gaze trailing up to your face.</p><p>His broad palms went to rest at your hips, thumbs caressing above the top of your skirt and you shivered, his touch and the intense unreadable gaze making your head spin and yet causing the wheels in your head turn madly in attempt to figure out what was about to happen.</p><p>So far, it seemed like a calm before the storm; however, you could already feel the electricity of lightning crackle in the air, a presage of great force brewing, preparing to strike.</p><p>Maintaining eye-contact, bright blue irises darkening in front of you in a hypnotic show, Steve pressed a light kiss to your abdomen. Your breath hitched in your throat, unlike the strangled startled sound that somehow found its way out.</p><p>What was he doing? Why was he looking at you like that? Why did it seem that he was about to worship every damn part of your body instead of being mad at you? …or disappointed or upset with you, <em>anything</em> dammit-</p><p>“S-Steve,” you stuttered, just a breath of his name and his mouth brushed your clothed stomach again, fingers pressing once against your hipbones before relaxing again.</p><p>His presence was immense – you might have been the one standing, towering above him, but Steve was the one who was pulling the strings, igniting fire in your belly just by barely-there touches and by his eyes never leaving yours… until now.</p><p>“Sh-shh,” he whispered, gaze intent as it skimmed all over your figure, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips, hungry eyes as if seeing you for the first time.</p><p>Your heart nearly gave out at the would-be soothing sound, reminding you of times when he drove you crazy enough to scream his name, his <em>soothing</em> ‘shh’ echoing in your ears. The shushing however did erase your previous worrying, pushing it away as dampness already started pooling in your panties instead. Whatever was happening now, it wasn’t a fight for certain.</p><p>You wanted to run your fingers through Steve’s hair, to do <em>something</em> with your hands rather than having them hanging uselessly by your sides, but his actions not only rendered you speechless, but were effectively turning your whole brain to mush. You couldn’t make yourself move an inch.</p><p>“Good girl. I’ll do the talking… god, look at you,” he whispered, his hands moving to your ass, warm palms sprawled over your cheeks, greedy, appreciative. “Look at this…” He squeezed and the only thing you could do was to focus on the room so it would stop spinning as your breathing picked up.</p><p>Hyperaware of his hands trailing down your legs, a shudder of anticipation tickled your spine, heating up when Steve dropped a kiss to the front of your thighs, a light touch as if burning a brand.</p><p>“And this…”</p><p>You yelped when his grip tightened and he spun you around, suddenly making you all too mindful of the fact that you could face a mirror like this; you hadn’t even thought of that when you bought the closet together, simply following the need for more storage compartment, the reflective surface only a bonus, as you had moved in.</p><p>Now, the mirror was all you could think of and you couldn’t but watch Steve’s fingers disappear under the hem of your skirt, stroking the skin just above your knees.</p><p>“So beautiful, such a pretty girl…” he mused, pulling you down without a warning or resistance on your part as he positioned you between his wide-spread legs. His nimble fingers pushed away the hair from your shoulder, exposing skin for his mouth to taste.</p><p>The scrape of his beard and his hands finding their way to your belly had your eyes flutter shut, only for a nip of his teeth causing them to snap open in surprise.</p><p>You glanced at him in the reflexion, instantly trapped by his irises, their magnetic shade putting you in a place you couldn’t escape even if you tried.</p><p>“I said <em>look,</em> babygirl,” he reprimanded you hoarsely, still holding your gaze as he deliberately led his hands higher, cupping your breasts. You shivered, unable to look away from the two of you when Steve kissed the crook of your neck, a sweet torturous move.</p><p>His daring fingers, his hot soft lips, the scratch of his beard, the warmth his body radiated as he seemed to engulf you--- all the sensation combined had you fist the sheets, a blissful sigh falling from your lips, as you watched them part in the mirror.  </p><p>“Look what a pretty picture you make, can’t blame the guy for having an eye on you.”</p><p>You gulped at the mention of another man – Daniel <em>who? – </em>genuinely forgetting about his existence when Steve was turning you putty in his hands, deciding to suck a bruise on a sensitive spot above your collarbone just <em>because</em>.</p><p>
  <em>“Oh god-“</em>
</p><p>The surge of arousal to your veins was almost painful, causing your core to clench around nothing.</p><p>“Shh… I got you,” Steve cooed, kissing the incriminated spot tenderly, one of his hands leaving your breast in favour of running the pad of his thumb up your cleavage, over the hollow of your throat, landing on your bottom lip, caressing it before lightly tugging it down. “So tempting… but you’re a good girl, aren’t you?”</p><p>“Y-yes,” you breathed out automatically, catching a flash of Steve’s smirk in the mirror, his content hum vibrating against your back as he pressed you against his chest, scooting you closer, letting you feel his growing hard-on. The heat in your abdomen seared with the feeling what effect was taking this on <em>him</em>.</p><p>One hand reached for your jaw, manipulating your head to catch your lips with his, finally allowing your eyelids to slid shut. There was nothing sweet about the kiss – open-mouthed, demanding and dirty, Steve’s teeth tugged at your lower lip, stealing breath from your lungs, hogging all your attention – you barely registered his free hand loosening the zipper of your skirt and sneaking under the fabric, the shock of his palm suddenly cupping your sex over the wet panties blending into pleasure.</p><p>You whimpered into his mouth, pawing to cradle his jaw in the difficult position and he indulged you, impossibly deepening the kiss as his fingers traced your slit over the thin material of your underwear.</p><p>
  <em>Oh heaven and hell-</em>
</p><p>“So ready for me,” Steve whispered a praise to your mouth, adding more pressure with his next movement, your hips automatically bucking forward to increase friction. “So wet, so sweet for me, such a good girl…“</p><p>You couldn’t help the mewl that left your lips – Steve knew all too well what that praise did to you. You grabbed on his thigh to ground yourself, but all of sudden his mouth was gone and you were led to turn your head away from him, facing the mirror again.</p><p>His fingers easily slipped under your panties, circling your clit and making your toes curl, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.</p><p>“Look in the mirror, sweetheart,” he coaxed you, a low growl escaping him when you did, but your eyes fluttered shut at the pleasure he was giving you. His motions stilled and you whined, rocking your hips against his hand only to have him still your movements. “Ah-ah… you watch, babygirl, you <em>watch</em> who’s making you feel this good…”</p><p>In that moment, heart hammering in your chest, low ringing in your ears, core aching for more friction and the pressure in your belly building up, you were certain that Steve’s voice, an octave lower than usual, existed only to torment you.</p><p>You forced yourself to open your eyes, met with a filthy picture of a woman with pupils blown wide, lips bruised from kissing parted in bliss, body pressed against a gorgeous man’s front, one of his hands gripping her hip to steady her, the other hidden under her skirt. You looked positively <em>sinful,</em> but you had nothing on Steve, perfectly red lips pressed to your ear, deep blue observing the reflexion as well, lustful gaze fixated on the flush on your face.</p><p>“Good girl, so obedient,” he complimented, one finger teasing your entrance and finally going in, an action followed by your breathy voice saying his name, a prayer and a blasphemy at the same time.</p><p>“Don’t we look good together, babygirl?”</p><p>
  <em>“Yes.”</em>
</p><p>He added another finger, stretching your walls to both his and your liking. And by God, did you <em>like</em> it…</p><p>“Look at that, you must really want me, don’t you?”</p><p><em>“Yes,” </em>you whispered, unable to stay still with the coil in your abdomen just about ready to snap. Your hand unwittingly moved to rest over his, urging him to push deeper. His lips curled wickedly before he left a trail of butterfly-light kisses on your collarbone. Despite your better judgement, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the filthy picture.</p><p>The image of him would be burned into your brain like a brand, an image of a man with a face of an angel and leading you to sin like the devil himself, but in an oh so delicious ways…</p><p><em>“Christ,</em> look at you, fucking yourself on my fingers,” Steve revelled, his gaze boring into yours with intensity you couldn’t bear anymore, causing your cunt to clench around his fingers like a vice. “Say my name, babygirl, tell me who’s gonna make you come.”</p><p>The heel of his hand pushed against your clit and the whisper of his name turned into a moan.</p><p>
  <em>“Steve-“</em>
</p><p>“That’s right, babygirl. <em>Look at me.”</em></p><p>You did, a skilful stroke deep into your heat drawing another whine of Steve’s name. His movements barely ceased as he added the third finger and went straight to the spot he knew would make you see stars.</p><p>“Again,” he grunted to your ear and you obeyed, your vision nearly blurring with your high so close, almost at your fingertips.</p><p>His lips found a sensitive spot of your neck just below your ear and you were done for.</p><p>
  <em>“Steve!”</em>
</p><p>You came with a cry of his name on your lips, thighs quivering, head thrown back, eyes fluttering close in bliss.</p><p>His talented fingers worked you through your orgasm with almost lazy but very much intentional motions, while his lips kept whispering filthy praises right into your ear, placing a tender kiss here and there.</p><p>
  <em>“My girl, so good, so needy… taking it so well… my precious girl letting me fuck her with my fingers… so gorgeous and all mine… all mine.”</em>
</p><p>A pleasant shiver ran down your spine at every word, leaving you craving more, even as you just came down from your climax.</p><p>Steve’s fingers disappeared from your tight channel with a muffled smack, bringing you back to reality, chasing heat to your cheeks when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, utterly wrecked. You turned your head to find Steve’s lips instead, before you could decide you actually enjoyed seeing what he could do to you.</p><p>Your wordless plea remained unheard; his fingers spread some of your juices to your lips before wiping the rest on the skin of your cleavage and your blouse and only then he kissed you, tasting you, drinking your arousal from your lips as a man deprived water for hours, his hands roaming your figure, touching everywhere he could possibly reach.</p><p>You managed to roll over in his arms, kneeling between his legs on the bed, his hands pulling your blouse from your skirt so his fingers could slide under it, exploring more of your heated skin.</p><p>“Strip for me, sweetheart,” he breathed out, lightly pushing you away to stand on your shaky legs, watching you with interest as you obliged, unbuttoning one button after another for his lustful eyes.</p><p>He licked his lips, heated glare never leaving you as he blindly undid his own shirt; with a tell-tale of a clang of his belt, he lost his dress pants too, not at all ashamed at stripping his boxers and freeing his rock-hard cock standing to attention.</p><p>Your breath caught in your chest – you’d never stop marvelling at his body, thanking heavens and cursing at the same time. As if his stupidly handsome face wasn’t enough to drive you crazy-</p><p>Steve took offence at your bra still shielding you from his view, personally removing it as you stepped out of your sufficiently ruined underwear. You stood in front of the other naked as the day you were born, for a hundredth time and yet as if you were seeing each other for the first time.</p><p>You didn’t think you were shy under his gaze though – not after you were just forced to witness him fingering you. The corners of his lips rose minutely, fingertips running down your body, taking special care to stroke your hardened nipples, to cup your ass again.</p><p>“Fucking gorgeous,” he commented heartedly, voice husky as if he was the one screaming your name a minute before and not the other way around. You felt your thighs squeeze on instinct, remembering the feeling, recalling every sweet and filthy word he had just whispered in your ear.</p><p>And <em>fuck, </em>you loved it when Steve lost it and cussed on you, always making you feel wanted. Cherished even, despite his not always gentlemanly ways, ones you so thoroughly enjoyed.</p><p>But mirror? Now <em>mirror </em>was new and for a brief moment, before all remnants of rational thought vaporized, you wondered if you <em>should</em> be ashamed at having been so aroused and having come so fast.</p><p>Retracing its original path, one of his hands settled on your jaw to bring your mouths together, the faint taste of you still bittersweet on your tongue as it met with his, engaging in a filthy dance. You shut off your brain.</p><p>A gentle twist to your nipple caused you to moan in pleasure, the sound swallowed by Steve’s mouth. You nearly missed him walking you back, your feet following his lead on instinct; it wasn’t until your back hit the cold surface when you realized you were pressed against the mirror, the discovery warming your belly in excitement.</p><p>Steve’s lips moved to your throat to nip at your sensitive skin, hand snaking around your waist to save you from at least some of the coolness of the glass – a useless effort, really, seeing as your body felt like on fire.</p><p><em>“Gonna show you why you belong with me, babygirl, yeah,” </em>he stated rather than asked, voice sultry, uncompromising.</p><p>A yelp erupted from your chest as he spun you around, fingers circling your wrists to pin them next to the reflective surface, ordering you to leave them there as his own hands played with your breasts, skimmed over any patch of skin they could find and shower with attention. Caressing, admiring, squeezing, cherishing.</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t you look away, babygirl. Watch me as I take you apart.”</em>
</p><p>And you did as you were told, like the proclaimed good girl you were, the insecurity and excitement blending in one when seeing your irises widen in pleasure as he entered your channel from behind, hand possessively sprawled over your belly as if he could feel himself there. The glass kept fogging with your hot wet breath, long relieved and yet needy exhales as he slowly penetrated you over and over, letting you feel every inch, then short sharp ones as he drove home in a wickedly quick and shallow thrusts which had you begging for more, nails scrapping at the skin of your palms as you had to keep them in place.</p><p>The one time you couldn’t but try clamping at his hands on your hips, pleading and guiding him to give some attention to your aching clit, he pulled out altogether, leaving you painfully empty. Pushing his fingers past the seam of your lips, he incited you to watch yourself suck on them; your gaze kept flickering to his other hand massaging his sac as he was certainly not denying <em>himself</em> any pleasure while he left you aching for him.</p><p><em>“Naughty, dirty girl… taking anything I give you… so pretty with my fingers in your mouth- you want more?” </em>he queried with a wicked smile, hypnotic gaze, expectant expression turning into a grin when you muttered a ‘please’ and he lined his cock with your entrance again, pushing all the way in.</p><p><em>“Look how we fit, babygirl… look at you, begging for my cock, needy little thing…. Tell me. Aren’t I. Fucking. Lucky?”</em> he emphasized his point, each word accompanied with a rough thrust of his hips, following with a punishing pace and thankfully some loving to your clit at last. He soon tipped you over the edge, caging you in his body, trapping you in his eyes.</p><p>But it wasn’t even that you got to watch yourself that was making the experience so divine – no, it was Steve’s attentive gaze, alluring, indulging, <em>smug</em> even<em>,</em> until he got lost himself in the pleasure as well. His own eyes fluttered shut, red lips parting in needy moans rather than spilling praises for your body and readiness and guiding you to watch both yourself and <em>him</em>, ‘<em>the only man who could give you this,</em> <em>who could fuck you this good, whom you’re always asking for more’.</em></p><p>He took your breath away, his beauty enough to outweigh the light burden of insecurity – the utter adoration in his lust-blown pupils, the satisfaction of being able to take you like this, to make you see stars he himself would hang for you… you had lost yourself in the maze of him and when you reached your climax, his movements faltering soon after, you saw galaxies in his irises, and felt a supernova explode in every cell of your body.</p><p>You thanked god that Steve had enough wit to press you further into the mirror when your knees gave out and saved you both from some no doubt painful injuries… well, mainly himself, seeing as you both learned to love the moments of staying the closest possible even after reaching your climaxes, bodies still merged into one.</p><p>He chuckled breathlessly at your state, loving arms engulfing you despite the sweat running down your back, despite how sticky your bodies were. You couldn’t find yourself grossed out by that, your head still spinning from the heights you were coming down from.</p><p>“I love you,” he panted into your ear, nose nuzzling in the mess of your hair. Once again, it <em>could</em> be disgusting, hell, probably was… but the intimacy and the way he lost himself in you, just like you did in him… was there a feeling that could compare?</p><p>Your hands finally slid down the wood, one staying for balance, the other finding Steve’s, fingers interlacing and squeezing.</p><p>“I love you too, Stevie,” you whispered, out of breath and barely audible, but loud enough if his embrace tightening was anything to go by.</p><p>Your furiously pounding heart skipped a beat when the pressure didn’t relent, Steve’s arms still holding you impossibly close, if not closer.</p><p>“Stay with me, sweetheart,“ he pleaded lowly, all humour and authority leaving his voice and your blissful bubble was slowly intruded by the reminder of what led to this mind-blowing experience. His mouth busied itself with dropping kisses anywhere he could find, beard tickling, lips tender. “Please, babygirl, tell me you’re mine.”</p><p>The crack in his voice was enough to make your heart ache for him, for the insecurity eating at his amazing soul.</p><p>You supposed it was expected; he was, like you, a master at overthinking and his insecurities caused by the threat of another guy, <em>your classmate,</em> probably started with age (which was ridiculous, it wasn’t like Steve was old enough to be your dad even, <em>not that it mattered to you)</em>, continued with supposedly attractive accent of that asshole and ended with god knew what.</p><p>Still, there was no mistaking the uncomfortable tug at your heart when you heard Steve doubting himself, questioning if he was enough to keep you <em>his. </em>As if.</p><p>You resigned on attempting to balance yourself, your free hand finding its way to Steve’s damp locks, holding his head close, guiding him to meet your lips in a short but meaningful peck.</p><p>“I’m yours, Steve.”</p><p>A sharp intake of breath and you kissed him again, slow and deep, pouring in all love you could fit into one encounter of lips, withdrawing just enough to rest your mouth against his so he could <em>feel</em> your words. “I’m yours and I’m not going anywhere…. Aren’t you mine?”</p><p>“God, sweetheart,” he muttered, slipping out without grace and spinning your around, fingers plunging into your hair as he dived for your mouth, drinking all air from your lungs – sensation so pleasant and powerful you almost forgot about the trickle of thick liquid running down your thigh. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m yours.”</p><p>You smiled into the kiss and let your fingers travel to the half of the pendant he had given you, resting between his collarbones, usually hidden under his shirt.</p><p>“Because we fit perfectly.”</p><p>The curl of his lips and his slow nod was a blessing and a promise, a dawn of a new, brighter day. “Because we complete each other.”</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>After a completely innocent shower together – because <em>saving water </em>– you practically dragged Steve to a bed to lazy for the rest of the day in your pyjamas.</p><p>He wasn’t too opposed to that, sensing that for one, he wouldn’t defeat you even if he tried and for two, you two desperately needed to chill together and <em>talk.</em> And what was better than cuddling, your head nestled against his chest with a drumroll of his heart in your ear, his chest in a thin t-shirt in reach for your lips, his arm around you, his fingers toying with your hair, knuckles brushing your cheek?</p><p><em>Now</em> you could talk; you felt loved, you felt <em>safe</em> and you felt a tiny bit of guilt for keeping details about your new temporary classmate for yourself.</p><p>“I just… I didn’t want to be rude to him, you know?” you muttered after spilling the beans, lips pouting and pulse faltering as you knew it was only half of the truth. Steve dropped a tender kiss to your forehead, humming in a manner by which you knew he was encouraging you to speak further. “And I was… afraid that if I did something, like… I dunno, slap his hand or anything-”</p><p>“You think we’re still on thin ice dating together,” he stated, clearly having a revelation, because he hugged you tighter.</p><p>“Well, yeah. I don’t want to cause any problems and he’s the type—I think he would throw hands and complained, took it to high places and- I couldn’t have him do that.”</p><p>“Oh, so instead you let him-“ Steve shot back, but stopped himself mid-sentence, taking a calming breath as he felt you stiffen in his arms. You didn’t like angry Steve; you <em>hated</em> when he raised his voice and he knew that. “Bucky could tell there was something wrong.”</p><p>“So he ratted me out. How kind of him,” you noted, unable to help the note of sarcasm in your tone.</p><p>“Hey. I’m glad he did. I got an amazing sex from it,” Steve joked lightly, making you snort and bury your face in his chest, your cheeks burning. He chuckled and caressed your hair before growing serious again. “But more importantly, I think that the guy won’t be bothering you again. Bucky’s only looking out for you, you know. He likes you too.”</p><p>You knew it was the truth and you were genuinely grateful for the fact that Steve’s best friend approved of you to begin with – the idea caused you smile into Steve’s sleepshirt.</p><p>“Yeah... I guess. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you-“ No, that wasn’t right. “I’m not actually. I <em>am</em> sorry though that you found out this way. I was just... you were so stressed about the article and I didn’t want to burden you with some smug <em>jackass-“</em></p><p>You head rose and fell with Steve’s deep inhale and exhale, his thumb gently stroking your bare arm.</p><p>“I won’t say it’s okay… but I get it,” he admitted, fingers sliding under your chin so he could look at your face, meet your gaze. His eyes… they dimmed with worry and a sting in your heart warned you not to ever bring the same sadness into them again. “But please don’t do that again. If something troubles you... just tell me, alright?</p><p>You closed your eyes, unable to bear the intensity he spoke with, but hummed in agreement.</p><p>“Hey, I mean it, sweetheart. Look at me-“ And once again, for the hundredth time that day, always after being asked to, you did. “Please? Even if you think it will make me mad or sad... I’d rather knew than found out I was so focused on something else that I almost missed us growing apart.”</p><p>Warmth spread in your chest at his admission, as painful as heartfelt. Your hand cradled his cheek, enjoying the gentle scrape of his whiskers against your palm. “That’s not gonna happen, Steve. Never. You’re mine and I’m yours. I love you and some Italian jerk calling me a princess won’t change that.”</p><p>“How would you feel if the roles were reversed? If I was keeping something that makes me feel bad from you? If I was scared maybe?”</p><p>Okay, <em>ouch, </em>that was a low blow, because it was obvious that you’d hate it—but it was also hypocrisy of the highest order.</p><p>“You didn’t tell me about the hate mail right away either. Had you waited another day, I would have learned from Professor Danvers,” you deadpanned, bringing a grimace to Steve’s face.</p><p>“Okay, that’s fair. But I learned my lesson. So please?” he pleaded again and really – how could you say no to his puppy eyes? Who gave the right to look so cute to such handsome, no, to fucking <em>sexy</em> man?</p><p>“Okay. <em>Fine.</em> Consider this me learning mine.”</p><p>“Just try,” Steve whispered, a content smile spreading on his lips, eyes softening. “It’s all I ask.”</p><p>“Uh-huh.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>After that, comfortable silence fell on your pair and you nuzzled further into Steve’s warmth, a content sigh leaving your lips. This was your definition of <em>heaven.</em></p><p>Of course Steve had to crash the party with the dumbest question ever.</p><p>“So… you <em>don’t </em>like him, right?”</p><p>Your eyes snaped open, a loud groan erupting from your chest as you tried to twist from Steve’s hold – one that turned into a deadly grip, not allowing you to move an inch.</p><p>“Steve, he turned out to be the smuggest asshole I’ve ever met and that says something coming from me, because I met you, Bucky <em>and</em> Tony Stark in passing. So no, I <em>don’t</em> like him,” you spitted out, purposely jabbing at both Steve and the company he kept. <em>And</em> digging your elbow to his ribs, drawing a surprised, wounded, <em>very manly</em> yelp from him and having him release you. “If that makes you feel better, Da-<em>ni-</em>el might be speaking fluent Italian and English, but as far as I’m concerned, he sounds like a dick in both of those.”</p><p>Steve snorted a laugh, hands instantly taking a hold of you again, pulling you close. “Okay, okay, message received. Now come back here.”</p><p>You sputtered a curse as he had managed to rattle you, but you let him embrace you fully, because frankly, you had spent about five seconds out of his arms and already missed him. Even if he was amused by your antics.</p><p>“I love when you get all worked up. My feisty girl-“</p><p>“Shut up, Steven.”</p><p>“Oh, so it’s <em>Steven </em>now-“</p><p>You shot him a look, forcing yourself to keep a straight face when you saw the happy twinkle in his eye. <em>Gorgeous bastard.</em> So hard to be mad at him.</p><p>“Two words, Rogers: Smug. Asshole. My point stands,” you grumbled, his grin widening at your pretended grumpiness. “Oh, screw you-”</p><p>Faster than you could comprehend, you found yourself rolled over to your back; caged between Steve’s arms, his body lined with yours, legs interweaved, chest to chest, nose to nose and then his lips brushed your cheek, whispering into your ear.</p><p>“You did. And I think you liked it.”</p><p>You giggled despite yourself, your heart fluttering in delight; Steve’s giddiness was like a shot of ecstasy to your veins as he kissed you with a grin on his lips. After seeing him so worried for the past few days… you melted into him, committing every second of this to your memory.</p><p>“What’s got you so happy, Professor Rogers?” you questioned, watching him as he retreated, the twinkle in his irises taking away good five ten years from his handsome features.</p><p>“Well, you see, sweetheart,” he started, dropping a kiss to your nose, drawing another giggle from your lips. “Today, I told some hormonal brat who was making moves on my girlfriend to back off…”</p><p>“Uh-huh…”</p><p>“…I made crazy love to the said girlfriend-“</p><p><em>“Said girlfriend?</em> You have more of those?” you muttered teasingly, earning a playful pinch to your side.</p><p>“I get to spend the rest of the day in bed with the woman I love, postponing the boys’ night-“</p><p>“You are?!”</p><p>Screw it, Penny would understand if you ditched her for one night-</p><p>Steve grinned boyishly, brushing his nose with yours tenderly. “Uh-huh. And I got an email this morning, saying that my article is getting published, so-“</p><p>You squealed in joy, grabbing his face and crushing your mouth to his, evidently surprising him, but once he regained his balance, he chuckled and responded in kind, lips following you eagerly when you suddenly withdrew.</p><p>“STEVE, THAT’S AMAZING!!”</p><p>“Shh, keep it down,“ he scolded you, half-heartedly muffling your voice with his palm, but his body was shaking with laughter at your excitement. You pushed the offending hand away.</p><p>“NO WAY I’M GONNA BE QUIET! YOU’RE SO AMAZING! I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!”</p><p>He shut you up with a kiss – and who were you to refuse <em>that,</em> your hands caressing him everywhere you could reach instead, in a desperate attempt to show him how happy you were for him.</p><p>Apparently, seeing you so giddy worked for Steve’s appetite too, because you could feel him growing hard again against your thigh, his tongue pushing past the seam of your lips to taste the euphoria on your tongue.</p><p>Despite your undeniable arousal, you refused to give in, retreating, and continued gushing much to his displeasure.  </p><p>“Steve, that’s wonderful news! Congratulations! We have to celebrate-“</p><p>“I’m pretty sure we already have,“ he mumbled, searching for your mouth again, his lips persuasive as they sank into yours, tempting, whispering: “We could again.”</p><p>You hummed in agreement, your resolve slowly thinning, but then you mentally stomped your foot. “Not with sex, you filthy maniac! Really celebrate! Champagne and stuff!”</p><p>Steve’s brows furrowed, lips pouty as he discontentedly observed you making plans to celebrate his success differently from his ideas.</p><p>“You’re so wonderful, Stevie, so smart!” you kept babbling, searching in his brilliant irises for any shadow of disagreement you would dismantle by any means necessary. Speaking of Steve’s super-intelligent brain… “How are you with <em>me</em> again?”</p><p>“Hey!” he opposed to your words instantly, his expression darkening. “Shush it! You’re brilliant and you know it.”</p><p>“Meh,” you scoffed dismissively, earning a dangerous glint in Steve’s eye.</p><p>“Stop it or I’ll make you.”</p><p>Oh, you’d like that. So would he, judging by one particularly hard part of his body poking your stomach.</p><p>“You deserve the world and I love you, because you are incredibly smart and talented,” Steve exclaimed pointedly.</p><p>Then, he made a pregnant pause, leaning in to brush the shell of your ear with his sinful lips, a little scrape of his teeth breaking the last remnants of your conviction about leaving this bed to celebrate your boyfriend’s brilliance.</p><p>“And let’s not forget, pretty girl… you’re my <em>principessa.”</em></p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ah, look at them, knowing sex isn’t a solution to everything and actually choosing to talk about the issue too :D <br/>By the way, I’m probably going to hell. Again.<br/>Also, I admit I got inspired for the line about languages and sounding like a dick from The Flash (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iggR5MLq4LA at 3:15)</p><p>Sideway note: Not gonna lie, that infamous ‘shhh’ advice helped me through some tough time and hearing Chris talking about anxiety and stuff just makes me go like… good for him, being such a wonderful human being. But dammit, imagining hearing that ‘shhh’ in certain situation… my fucking death.</p><p>THANK YOU FOR READING!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Words We Don't Mean (and Those We Do)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Your parents decide to visit for Thanksgiving, which alone is a trial. </p><p>The fact that they haven’t met Steve yet and they have no clue who he is… yeah, you better brace yourself for a storm.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In the Stockings fic, I mentioned that no one in their household talked about (last) Thanksgiving. Here’s why.</p><p><b>Warnings:</b> angst, parents-daughter fight, mention of sexual abuse and of using one’s body to earn money, mild flashback, emotional H/C, swearing, sprinkles of fluff and Disney</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Sweetheart, please, sit down for just a second,” Steve requested gently; however, there was no mistaking the drop of amusement in his voice.</p><p>You hummed in acknowledgement of his words and continued scrubbing the bathtub clean.</p><p>Everything had to be perfect. <em>Had to be.</em> You bought the tinniest of the giant turkeys yesterday – just so you wouldn’t have to eat leftovers for a month –, ingredients for the stuffing, potatoes and cranberry sauce. Your mum had promised to stop by somewhere to get four slices of a pumpkin pie. But cooking was on your list later today; first you needed to make sure that the apartment would <em>shine</em> with cleanness.</p><p>Not that you considered yourself a neat freak, thank you very much… maybe occasionally. And Steve? Yeah, he was more of a neat freak than you were and <em>now</em> he was telling you to rest and take it easy? Uh-huh, <em>nope.</em></p><p>Nope, because… your parents -- gosh, <em>your parents.</em></p><p>“Honey-“</p><p>Your head snapped to him as he bounced off of the doorframe, soft steps leading him right to you.</p><p>“Did you just call me <em>honey?”</em> you asked incredulously.</p><p>Not that you didn’t like it, it was just-- you were Steve’s sweetheart, his babygirl, his<em> good girl…</em> now honey? That was <em>new</em> and frankly, it might have freaked you out a bit.</p><p>Also, your heart skipped a frantic beat upon looking at him.</p><p>Damn, you forgot <em>again </em>about what he had done yesterday and it always startled you to see him like that. Too unusual – not bad-looking by any means, just… unusual.</p><p>Steve chuckled as he crouched to you, dropping a kiss to the top of your head and cupping your mildly sweaty cheek. He grimaced a bit at your surprised tone.</p><p>“Not a fan?”</p><p>“I mean, yeah, sure, <em>hun,</em> it’s just that… it’s a bit ominous, the change.”</p><p>One corner of his lips rose at your choice of a petname. “That’s because you’re freaking out and I need you to calm down a bit, sweetheart.”</p><p>Your eyebrows shot up and you scoffed, rather offended. Mostly because he was right – but also because he was being a damn hypocrite.</p><p>“Oh, am I? Me? Did I spend about an hour in front of the mirror yesterday, trying and almost failing to solve the dilemma whether I should or shouldn’t shave off my beard?”</p><p>Steve’s face turned entirely sour at your snarky remark.</p><p>“Don’t be mean, it’s a valid concern to-- I don’t want them to hate me,” he murmured and dropped his gaze in shame along with his hand, seemingly shrinking into himself, his insecurity returning.</p><p>You sighed and mentally cursed yourself for bringing it up again.</p><p>You dropped the brush to the tub with a thud and lost one of your gloves, wiping the <em>ew</em> feeling onto your old sweats before you tried to smoothen the worried wrinkle between his eyebrows.</p><p>“They’re gonna love you, Steve,” you assured him again, letting you fingers travel over his clean-shaved jaw, lightly pulling at his cheek to make him smile again. “I miss the beard, not gonna lie, but you <em>do</em> have an extremely sweet boy-next-door look now, you are my handsome, funny, <em>smart as hell</em> guy, who’s somehow all grown up and has life stuff figured out <em>and</em> you’re making me happy. You’re the epitome of the guy a girl wants to bring home to meet her parents.”</p><p>Despite slightly panting from exertion, you took care to sound as convincing as possible, pushing away your own worries for a bit.</p><p>Steve was your perfect guy, <em>perfection incarnated;</em> you weren’t worried about him not making an impression… except for the fact that Steve <em>did</em> have a few years on you and worked at the uni and—well.</p><p>Yet, you couldn’t but dread the moment your parents realized that <em>you</em> were everything but perfect since they let you loose on the world. You had never been the daughter to show off like the epitome of everything good and wholesome, but you always tried your best to please them…. Now though? Darting your professor? Even if he wasn’t exactly <em>your</em> professor?</p><p>Yeah, you didn’t think that a spotless apartment could make up for that, but it helped to ease your anxiety when you kept lying to yourself that it just might.</p><p>Steve grasped your palm in his, planting a tiny kiss there – a gesture to warm your heart, always – his lips once again curled up a fraction as his gaze met yours, his mesmerizing blues kind and hopeful.</p><p>“You really think so?”</p><p>
  <em>“Of course.” </em>
</p><p>And with the way he was looking at you – you finally figured it out. Just a fleeting thought and an answer to an unspoken question you had been failing to grasp at since yesterday; it escaped your lips before you could stop yourself.</p><p>“Gosh, you look like <em>a Disney prince!”</em></p><p>Steve’s eyes went comically wide, laughter erupting from his throat and he pulled you to him in one swift motion, falling on his ass with you in his arms in the process and nearly getting crushed by you. Clearly, he did not care one bit as he shook with laughter, kissing your nose, your cheeks and finally your lips despite your protests that you were gross.</p><p>“That’s golden! Oh babygirl, you’re the-”</p><p>“Tell me I’m Cinderella, I dare you,” you grumbled, but Steve just shook his head and kissed you breathless, fingers of one hand curled around your nape to guide you closer, to breathe you in, while his other hand stayed wrapped around your waist.</p><p>You tried your best not to touch him with your gloved hand, having it ridiculously stretched out to nowhere in order not to spot his clothes, but your free hand clutched at his t-shirt with enthusiasm.</p><p>His lips left yours only when the world started spinning and your mind turned blank besides the thought of Steve’s mouth being on yours and how much you loved it when he stole all the breath from your lungs – and how much you always missed him when he withdrew.</p><p>You stared at him, dumbstruck, as he watched you like you were the eighth wonder of the world, your messy self in baggy clothes, your heart growing three times its size, your insides positively tingly from the heated make-out session.</p><p>Steve was smiling again too at last, brushing your nose with his and planting one last soft kiss on your lips.</p><p>“Okay, babygirl, now hand over the brush.”</p><p>You had to blink several times, your oh so lazy brain taking its time to realize what he said. <em>Huh?</em> Also, did he just said it as if he was asking you were a robber holding a hostage on gunpoint and he was asking you to lay down your weapon?</p><p>The thought made you internally snort.</p><p>“Why?” you demanded, suspicious.</p><p>“Because I’m taking over.”</p><p>You instantly shook your head. “No-“</p><p><em>“Yes.</em> I promise I’ll make sure it’s spotless-“</p><p>Okay, yeah, that was <em>one</em> of our arguments against him doing the clean-up. However, there was one more. “But you still have papers to grade and lessons to prepare!”</p><p>“And you want to cook too and then we’ll have to clean up the kitchen. And you’ll want to take a shower and and <em>and.</em> Papers can wait. Gimme the brush.”</p><p>“You make it sound like it’s a weapon of mass destruction… or I am,” you muttered, but you kissed his cheek – <em>such a strange feeling,</em> you truly missed the sensation of his beard scraping your lips – and climbed out of his lap with a meek and cautious <em>thank you</em>. He cackled at your antics, but quickly fished out a new pair of gloves from the bathroom drawer and started working.</p><p>You swallowed your smart remark about <em>him</em> being the Cinderella now. Mostly because his gesture was one of the sweetest things and really – seeing Steve scrubbing the bathtub might not be the sexiest thing in the world… but it kinda was.</p><p>It pulled at your heartstrings as you imagined that this might be how it would always be; you and Steve, settling together, taking care of the household, then cuddling on the couch—the domesticity you hadn’t always been sure you craved.</p><p>Now you were certain of it; but to get to that, you had to survive your parents’ visit first. </p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>You had somewhat stayed in touch with your parents, mostly with your mum; you two had been calling on a so-so regular basis, sometimes with video, and both her and your father were <em>obviously</em> aware that you had a boyfriend (gee, that sounded kinda trivial, <em>a boyfriend)</em>. In fact, Steve played a huge role in them deciding to purchase their plane tickets… besides wanting to see New York City… and you.</p><p>The thing was… you had managed to keep Steve’s identity secret so far; you never used a videocall when he was around, so your mum only had heard his voice, sweet and polite in the most <em>Steve</em> fashion possible, you sort-of danced around his age and his job. Yeah, you found it strange as well that you kept it up so long, a divine intervention even; or maybe your mum simply had a good idea of your dirty secret all along and purposely didn’t probe.</p><p>Now, with your parents in the apartment, your dad’s eyes more on Steve than on you (your mum’s eyes wandered too, you noticed, but she had enough decency to show you she missed you first), you felt dread fill every cell in your body. Your heart was pounding in your chest with too much ferocity, your temples pulsing, your palms uncharacteristically sweaty and if it wasn’t for Steve’s warm hand on your lower back, its weight oh so comforting, you might spontaneously combust because of your nerves.</p><p>You were suddenly entirely grateful that Steve <em>had</em> shaved off his beard, was giving less of a an incredibly hot (and still very young,<em> thank you very much)</em> professor vibe and looked--- well, kinda like he could be your classmate.</p><p>But of course, <em>of course</em> the subject came up. Inevitably, after the small talk about your parents’ flight, about how their job was going and if they picked up a new hobby (…or heard some gossip), you and Steve became the centre of attention.</p><p>First, things went smoothly enough; you talked a bit about school, about Penny and some of your classmates and professors, about your part-time job. Steve had been subtly drawing small comforting circles on your thigh whenever he wasn’t eating and he in fact succeeded in lowering your heartbeat so much that you might appear even <em>calm.</em></p><p>And then it oh so predictably went to shit.</p><p>Because apparently, your materialistic father <em>had to</em> ask Steve what he was studying and what his plan for his future career was.</p><p>“I actually finished my studies,” Steve admitted in an admirably dispassionate manner.</p><p>Meanwhile, your own heart started racing again, sending you to the verge of a cardiac arrest; your father’s eyes narrowed slightly, but a hint of a smile played in the corners of his lips in effort to remain polite… for now.</p><p>“Oh? Was that recently?”</p><p>You deflected that question by bringing up the pie and snatching Steve with you to bring it to the table since you two were the hosts.</p><p>The question forgotten, your mum – god bless her, she had caught up enough to know you did <em>not</em> want to discuss Steve’s age, even if it wasn’t <em>that</em> bad – asked about Steve’s field of study.</p><p>“History, minoring in pedagogics.”</p><p>“Oh? So you are a history teacher?” your dad chimed in and you swallowed as Steve confirmed that claim, walking straight into a death trap. You had seen it coming, you had, but you still winced when your father’s icy tone cut the almost festive atmosphere. “And it wouldn’t be that you’re more of a university professor, would it?”</p><p>His hand balled into a fist on the table, your mother’s lightly covering it as she whispered his name; the gesture of comfort, a silent plea for him to stay calm, didn’t quite work.</p><p>Steve, to his benefit, looked only a bit sheepish, meeting your dad’s eye with bravery worth of the Disney prince you had called him earlier that day. Also, with the same honesty… why hadn’t you agreed on lying to them again?</p><p>“It would, sir.”</p><p>“Oh. I don’t suppose then that it is a coincidence that you two met in school?” your dad continued and you sighed, your breathing progressively turning into a more and more of a difficult task with the anticipation of a storm.</p><p>“It is not, sir,” Steve replied calmly and you honestly didn’t know whether you should kiss him or punch him, unsure if his attitude made your father madder or not. “However-“</p><p>Your father’s gaze snapped to you, sharp and enraged; you felt yourself sink into your chair involuntarily, your mind travelling years back to the moments when he wasn’t pleased with you at all, yelled and sputtered words tasting of venom.</p><p>“Do you have <em>any</em> explanation for this inappropriate joke?” you father hissed, not caring he interrupted whatever Steve was about to say to your defence.</p><p>Your chest grew heavy, edges of your vision blurring subtly; your eyes burned and suddenly, you weren’t only remembering. You were <em>reliving</em> a memory, feeling like your child-self, like your teenage-self, being scolded for every imperfection; and there had been generous amount of those as you had been growing up.</p><p>Steve’s hand somehow slid under the table again, squeezing yours, a gentle wave of attempted comfort washing over you.</p><p>But it took one glance at him and you understood that silent support was not the only goal of his when he sought your touch.</p><p>His jaw was set tight, his grip a little too strong; he was trying to maintain composure, while not at all impressed with the tone your father was speaking with you.</p><p>Yet, Steve’s gesture did provide you with something you hadn’t had whenever you faced your father before; strength and true support, the essential reminder that you had done <em>nothing wrong</em>.</p><p>“Dad, this is not a joke,” you said, your voice shaking only slightly as you squeezed Steve’s hand back, “Steve and I are dating. Yes, he is teaching at the same college I study, but-“</p><p>A fist hit the table, causing the remaining tableware clank with the force behind the blow and you winced in fright, all muscles tensing in an instant.</p><p>“There is no ‘but’ applicable in this case!” your father spitted out, the anger in his voice making your guts twist, the sting in your eyes intensifying. “We help you to pay for school so you could <em>study,</em> not sleep around!”</p><p>Several things happened at once; your mother admonished your father, a level-headed whisper of his name. Your voice, too quiet as always when your father reprimanded you, tried to protest, to defend yourself.  And Steve’s patience ran out, his outrage at your father’s demeanour showing.</p><p>“Paul-“</p><p>“That’s not what’s-“</p><p>“Don’t talk to her like that!“</p><p>“You keep your mouth shut now,” you father snapped at Steve, pointing a finger at him accusingly before turning his rage towards you again, the deep disappointment in his eyes somehow more hurtful than the anger. “Is it that bad with your grades that you have to—to--- <em>Jesus Christ.“</em></p><p>The world stopped for several frantic beats of your heart, everything else in standstill. Multiple sharp breaths were drawn in, but you didn’t think either of them was yours.</p><p>Your father’s unfinished sentence echoed in your ears as if from a terrible distance and just like that—<em>just like that,</em> you were thrown several months back to the days before your graduation.</p><p>
  <em>Rogers’ whore</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Bet she’ll get the highest score</em>
</p><p>The icy feeling that froze your bones and crystalized the blood in your veins made for a stark contrast to the few hot tears you were distantly aware of that were running down your cheeks.</p><p>Many had thought of you that you were a set of holes to fill for the professor in exchange for passing an exam or two, which was disgusting, deeply insulting and obviously wrong. But those people didn’t know you- they weren’t your blood.</p><p><em>Your own father</em> was now seconds from calling you a whore. The dinner turned into a stone in your stomach as the verbal punch knocked all air from your lungs.</p><p>“Paul!” you heard a swift reproach, quickly followed by Steve’s voice, dangerously low in a threat. “I’m sorry, <em>what</em> did you just imply about her?”</p><p>“You zip it-“</p><p>“Paul!”</p><p>It felt like a fucking elephant stomped on your chest, the spiral of pity and despair, mocking voices swirling wildly, tossing you around with a quickening speed as the circles got smaller and smaller, as if you were circling down the drain, your breaths coming shorter and shorter too-</p><p>And yet your father still continued, ignorant to all warnings and your inner turmoil.</p><p>“That’s over, <em>my dear.</em> I refuse to support such disgusting thing. And <em>you,</em> I don’t see how it’s possible that you still have your job-“</p><p>“DAD!” a loud cry cut off the monologue and it took you a moment to realize that it was <em>you</em> who just snapped and yelled, despite the unmistakable addressing.</p><p>Your father stared at you in mute shock as you dared to interrupt him; and frankly, with the world spinning, your stomach twisted and your chest constricted with anxiety, you were shocked by your actions too.</p><p>It was the fact that he doubted Steve’s position at the uni, flashed through your mind, the way he <em>insulted</em> the man you loved and who deserved all the good things. Or maybe it was his fucking attitude towards Steve and you in general and you just finally reached your limit. You weren’t sure; but shit, this ended <em>now.</em></p><p>The silence that fell on the room granted you a few moments to breathe and calm your frantic mind.</p><p>“He is <em>not</em> using me like some f-“ <em>-fuckdoll-</em> “-fling or whatever. And he’s not even my professor, he’s-“</p><p>“Like it matters!” you father snapped from his trance, spitting the words, a vein on his temple visibly popping up as he rose to his feet swiftly, nearly sending the chair flying to the ground.</p><p>You stared up at him, the coil of despair and rage in your gut burning hot as he literally looked down on you.</p><p>You hadn’t been ready for this. You hadn’t been ready for your father to despise you for being in a relationship with a great man, to judge you so harshly without being able to <em>listen</em> for a damn second.</p><p>“It DOES. But even if he was-“ you tried to explain again, losing patience and the ground under your feet too as Steve’s hand started practically crushing the bones of yours.</p><p>You could physically feel Steve trying to hold back and slowly succumb to his not so nice emotions no doubt swirling in him just like in you.</p><p>“How can you not see that’s he’s only looking to get his---” your father gestured wildly towards Steve and rather low and you could hear Steve’s teeth grinding at the implication. Your blood reached the boiling point. How <em>dared he to-</em> “-that he’s only seeking a physical thing-“</p><p>“That’s <em>not</em> what this is. I <em>love</em> your daughter-“ Steve emphasized, expression fiery, voice surprisingly measured for a man who you believed was one moment from punching your father.</p><p>“Sure you do, son, until something with long legs and tall heels walks by-“</p><p>Steve’s chair scrapped against the floor and you quickly laid a palm over his chest to stop him from jumping to his feet and succumb to his righteous anger.</p><p>“Steve-“ you whispered soothingly, seeing the light tremble to his hands, tendons dancing under his shirt with the effort to hold back.</p><p>“Paul, that’s enough,” your mother interjected, grabbing her husband’s wrist to keep him back as well.</p><p>“I <em>do</em> love your daughter, I respect her and I fully intend-“</p><p>Steve closed his eyes as he inhaled shakily to compose himself. In the very back of your mind, you spared a single thought to what he was going to say before he shook his head and looked your father dead in the eye again.</p><p>“-I am serious about her and I want to and will be with her as long as she’ll have me.”</p><p>You had two full seconds to sink into the gentle sentiment behind his words, to cherish how much he <em>did</em> respect your choices and strangely, how he still doubted he could be enough for you, before your father scoffed dismissively.</p><p>“Well, I hope you <em>are</em> serious, because if she comes crawling back in few weeks, the door and the account will be closed.” He shot you one disdainful look that made your heart stop before twisting his arm from your mother’s hold and stepping away from the table. “We’re leaving.”</p><p>Your eyes slipped shut, a fresh wave of hot tears painting your cheeks, all strength leaving your body, darkness enveloping your mind.</p><p>He was cutting you off. He was going to disown you no doubt; that much of a disappointment you were to him.</p><p>Your own father <em>hated you.</em></p><p>Dull ringing filled your ears, muffling your mother’s low voice.</p><p>“I’m so sorry for his behaviour.” She sounded truly regretful, her voice quivering a bit, you thought. “I’ll talk to him about what he said. Thank you for the dinner, baby. It was nice to meet you, Steve, <em>truly.”</em></p><p>“You too, ma’am,” Steve responded firmly, his voice the only solid thing in the room. “I’ll—I’ll walk you out.”</p><p>“That’s not necessary, Steve. But thank you. I’ll call you, sweetheart.”</p><p>A low whisper about a promise fell from her lips next as she brushed your shoulder, but you couldn’t hope to understand what she was saying, the buzz of blood in your ears growing louder.</p><p>And then you knew she was gone along with your father. You knew because a warm hand touched yours, another gently wiping way the endless waterfall of your tears and then you were pulled to your feet and practically dragged to the couch in Steve’s protective embrace.</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>You wouldn’t be able to tell how long you were drenching Steve’s shirt in tears, sobbing into his chest as he held you firmly and yet tenderly, whispering sweet nothings, words of comfort empty and yet so meaningful.</p><p>You couldn’t tell how long it took for the tremble subdue, for the sobs to turn into sniffles and then die out entirely.</p><p>“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so so sorry,” Steve whispered to your hair, caressing your scalp, your back the next, dropping a kiss to the top of your head.</p><p>“I know,” you creaked back, gripping the fabric of his shirt for one last time before you gathered your breath and courage to face him; you had to. You might be a mess, but it was vital that he heard you say this: “It’s not your fault.”</p><p>You withdrew slightly, meeting his eyes, so big and regretful, a bit watery as if he was the one crying. The corners of his lips, apparently having been turned down the whole time, twitched, his whole face twisting in a grimace; little sad, little defiant, but he didn’t protest even though you were certain that he wanted to.</p><p>Perhaps it was a testimony of how well you two fit, how your thoughts worked on the same wavelengths; you understood what he must have been thinking. <em>If you were dating literally anybody else, this wouldn’t have happened.</em></p><p>So you had to assure him that you didn’t blame him; even if he did so himself. You didn’t have the energy to be angry with him for such thing. Mostly because that in a way, there was a tiny bit of truth in him thinking so.</p><p>“Don’t do that to yourself. I chose you. Yes, this relationship is on both of us… but we knew the risks and went for it anyway. And—it’s worth it, it’s just… <em>fuck, this </em>is so fucked up. I’m in such a mess now,” you whispered, your voice breaking as fresh tears burned in your eyes.</p><p>Steve’s fingers were quick to dry your cheeks, gently stroking, a soft smile tugging at his lips.</p><p><em>“We are, babygirl. </em>We’re in this together. What’s mine is yours,” Steve said, determined. You couldn’t find yourself sharing his optimism, but his eyes locked onto yours, serious as his words. “We’ll figure it out. Find ways of saving more. Hell, if it comes to that, I’ll try to find a job that pays better-”</p><p>Your palms landed on his chest, pushing away, putting some distance between you; his hand dropped from your face.</p><p>
  <em>Say WHAT?</em>
</p><p>“Absolutely not!” you protested instantly, sobering from your despair and letting indignation take over, ignoring entirely the voice in your head sweetly nudging you with the idea of what Steve was willing to give up for you. “I’ll drop off college before I let you give up being a professor, Steve-- you are <em>made-“</em></p><p>“Not an option, sweetheart,” he shot back instantly, expression turning strict. “You leaving college is off the table.”</p><p>Mentally, you threw your hands up in the air, growing confused and frustrated by the minute.</p><p>“Why? How is that different from you finding a new job, giving up something you worked for so hard?”</p><p>“The <em>difference</em> is,” Steve raised his voice slightly, speaking slowly as if he wanted you to remember every word, “-that the chances are that I could come back at some point, that I might only lose a few years. You dropping off, on the other hand, would affect your whole future.”</p><p>The same exasperation you felt burned in his eyes now and you gulped, realization hitting you that… yeah, okay, that was a good point. But you hated it anyway.</p><p>“…okay, that’s a fair point. But I rather work three jobs and didn’t sleep at all than seeing you leave the university.”</p><p>“And work yourself to the ground? I don’t think so, babygirl,” Steve shook his head, just a smidge of patronizing which stung more than you would expect.</p><p>Obviously, he was presenting you with more of a feasible option, but you had a feeling that the primal instinct to be the provider played a role in his attitude too – and at any given moment besides this one you would like that; you were completely fine with him wanting to ensure you were secured, taking the larger portion of the burden on his shoulders.</p><p>Except now it reminded you of your father in the worst possible way despite knowing that the sentiment was nothing but sweet, no malice in his intentions. It chased tears into your eyes.</p><p>Steve’s expression instantly melted, panic flashing in his eyes as he must have figured out that this was not the right thing to say… or not the right way.</p><p>His hands were quick to frame you face, tender but unwavering, forcing you to look him straight in the eye.</p><p>“Hey, hey, no. It’s just… we’ll work it out, <em>somehow, </em>okay? We can even move out and share an apartment with someone else if we need to. Though you’re forgetting I used to pay this rent and bills on my own.”</p><p>Your lower lip quivered, your heart fluttering in fondness for this incredible man, your chest constricted at the idea of taking <em>anything</em> away from him, even if it was comfort. God, the distance he was willing to walk…</p><p>“You were living on school cafeteria food and ramen,” you mumbled, corners of your lips twitching upwards for the shortest moment.</p><p>Steve’s smile, on the other hand, was almost blinding, tight-lipped but honest, thumbs sweeping at the tears that appeared yet again.</p><p>“See, another possibility to save money. Don’t cry, my pretty girl…” he pleaded lowly, kissing your nose before shaking his head lightly. “Or cry if you need to. I’m here, sweetheart, okay? Whatever you need.”</p><p><em>Shit,</em> your heart couldn’t hope to contain this amount of love-</p><p>How could anyone ever doubt Steve was the right man for you? The best man? The most wonderful loving human being? <em>How</em> did your father think he was just looking for a mindless fuck?</p><p>“I love you,” you whispered hoarsely, smiling through your tears. <em>“Fuck</em> my father. He can’t bully me into being his perfect daughter by cutting me off, can’t make me <em>behave. </em>There’s nothing wrong with me loving you.”</p><p>“Or me loving you.”</p><p>There was no questioning his honesty; it was written all over his features, his irises bright with emotion. And yet, you worried your teeth over your lower lip, insecurity, your old friend, crawling into your head.</p><p>“You do, really? Even with my asshole of a dad?”</p><p>You didn’t mean it. <em>Entirely. </em>Though momentarily, your dad <em>was</em> being an asshole, not for the first time.</p><p>“Yeah, sweetheart. You’re my everything,” Steve promised, releasing your face in order to tuck messy loose strands of your hair behind your ears.</p><p>“That’s the sweetest thing to say, but you can’t exactly sell <em>me</em> to put food to your mouth-“ <em>Oh. Even though… maybe that would be an option? </em>“Well, technically-“</p><p>All the gentle warmth radiating from Steve’s expression turned ice cold, smile dropping so fast it startled you.</p><p>“Don’t you even-“</p><p>“Hey, why not, I mean how much do you think-“</p><p><em>“Stop that right now!”</em> Steve’s voice cut you off, razor sharp voice as if cutting into your skin.</p><p>You flinched at the mental blow on instinct, air stuck in your throat, muscles in your back straightening enough to inflict a sharp pounding in your head.</p><p>Steve closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling painstakingly slow, as if he got punched in his gut too. His fists on your sides clenched and unclenched, Adam’s apple bobbing. When he looked at you again, it was obvious he realized he had scared you – and that he regretted not keeping his anger in check.</p><p>“I’m sorry, babygirl, I didn’t mean for it to come out this harsh.”</p><p>You bit the inside of your cheek, focusing on nothing but your breathing and keeping yourself from sobbing <em>again</em> as you were reminded of your father’s yelling. With each long second, you could see Steve’s face twisting and his body sinking into the couch in shame.</p><p>Well. As much as you hated him snapping at you, you had to give it to him – it sobered you up. Frankly, you didn’t blame him for being so harsh.</p><p>But you were also aware that Steve was a painfully kind and gentle soul and he <em>never</em> wanted to be rough with you… well, except under certain very consensual special circumstances.</p><p>“I know,” you forced an unconvincing smile, laying your palm on his cheek, affection Steve was quick to lean into with a sigh – probably both relieved and content. “I’m sorry for talking stupid.”</p><p>He covered your hand with his, carefully manipulating it so he could brush his lips over your palm.</p><p>“You’re not, not really. Our heads are a mess, rightfully so. I know people still do that, some purely by choice, but—I don’t want that for you, <em>ever.</em> That’s the same level on a will-never-happen scale like you not continuing your masters. Not an option for me. You’re my girl and if someone’s gonna change their habits, it’s gonna be me first.”</p><p>The surge of affection at his words filled your stomach with butterflies, wrapping around you like the softest and warmest comforter.</p><p>Great, now you wanted to cry for a whole different reason.</p><p>“I don’t deserve you,” spilled from your lips before you could think twice. Steve’s sweet smile made its return.</p><p>“Other way around, babygirl. Other way around…. Now how does a bath and a bed sound?”</p><p>
  <strong>⊱</strong>
  <strong>-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ </strong>
  <strong>✉</strong>
  <strong> ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-</strong>
  <strong>⊰</strong>
</p><p>Steve hadn’t planned on you <em>and</em> him having a bath when making the suggestion. He found a bath-bomb even and few candles so the light wouldn’t have to be on and hurt your previously teary eyes.</p><p>But then you looked at him with wide eyes, pleading and so vulnerable, a single look so heartfelt that it would make the devil’s black heart break and the angels weep – and he was done for, sinking into the bath with you even if the bathtub was <em>not </em>meant for more than one person, especially when one of them was of Steve’s built.</p><p>He couldn’t tell you no. Less so after the shitstorm the dinner had turned into.</p><p>Yes, Steve’s own emotions were running high, anger, disappointment and self-hatred he knew he couldn’t confess to, certainly not at the moment, but you. <em>You </em>were the priority here because he had a feeling that no matter how overwhelmed he felt, he had nothing on you.</p><p>The ceramics of the tub was hard against his back and against his knees at the side, but you fit into his arms and between his legs so perfectly and contentedly that he wouldn’t dare to complain. Head in the crook of his neck, your back to his chest, you melted into him, eyes closed, fingers absently and yet affectionately running over his forearms above water, sometimes along his calves.</p><p>You didn’t talk much, mostly repeating that it wasn’t his fault, that you loved him – something he found himself echoing every time – and it slipped through your lips too that while you would never change the fact that you picked him… you were sorry for being a disappointment to your father.</p><p>At that, something in Steve’s chest cracked and he swore to himself – that he would never <em>ever</em> be the cause of you feeling like a disappointment. And why would he – you were his perfect girl, <em>his best girl</em>. As much as he regretted that he indirectly did have a hand in making you feel like this now, he wouldn’t change who you were to each other and who <em>you </em>were had he had the chance. Never.</p><p>What he <em>could</em> do was to hold you tighter after your admission and whisper more sweet nonsense that made perfect sense to him to your ear.</p><p>By the time the water got cold, you were practically asleep, completely groggy, pliant. Somehow, you both climbed from the tub without sustaining any injury. He might have been holding you upright a bit as you both brushed your teeth and pulled on a pyjama.</p><p>You fell asleep almost instantly, face hidden in Steve’s chest, few stray tears dampening his sleepshirt as you mumbled one more love confession into the fabric.</p><p>“I love you, Steve... I’m sorry… you have to put up with such bullshit…” Your words slurred but Steve didn’t need to hear them to understand what you were saying.</p><p>He dropped a kiss to the top of your head, pulling you closer to his side, ignoring the sting of guilt in his gut.</p><p>“I love you too, sweetheart,” he whispered, earning a hum that might have been a sign of contentment… or you being entirely drained. “Let’s go to sleep now. Clearer head in the morning.”</p><p>Another hum and then nothing but your deep slow breathing, the last remnants of tension leaving your body.</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>Steve didn’t think he would follow you to the dreamland anytime soon, too agitated, thoughts swirling wildly in his head, but he caught himself snapping back to consciousness at some point, unsure when he fell asleep – and what woke him up.</p><p>An intrusive buzzing on your nightstand provided him with the answer, your phone lit up.</p><p>Steve spared you one glance as you stirred only to nuzzle deeper into his frame, sighing.</p><p>As carefully as he could so he wouldn’t wake you, he stretched over you and checked who was calling.</p><p>Blood crystalized in his veins, heart sent into frenzy as he read a simple short word.</p><p>
  <em>Mom.</em>
</p><p>He squeezed the side button, silencing the vibration as he pondered what to do; and yet, even as his heart jumped to his throat – as if he was a teenager about to face his girlfriend’s parents after he took her virginity – he had already made a decision, accepting the call as you sank into the cushions without him as a pillow.</p><p>He slipped from the room as silently and quickly as possible, announcing himself before you mother could say something not meant for his ears.</p><p>“Oh. Hello, Steve,” your mother greeted him, clearly surprised – but much to Steve’s relief, not angry.</p><p>He could do this, he could talk to your mother even with the lump in his throat; could have been much worse. Could have been your <em>father</em> and Steve wasn’t so sure if he would manage him. For one, he would hate to be reminded, once again, of what the numerous hate letters had told him about being a total perv; for two, Steve feared he might exchange words with your father that couldn’t have been taken back and would seal the damage done to the relationship with your parents .</p><p>“I’m sorry, ma’am. She fell asleep and—I can wake her, of course, but-“ He stumbled over his words and was immensely grateful when your mother saved him from his misery; more se when she said what she did.</p><p>“-but she had a rough night. We all did. I’m okay to talk to you, Steve.”</p><p>“Alright… how can I help, ma’am?”</p><p>“Tell me how bad she is, Steve? She stopped crying before she falling asleep?” the woman on the other side asked softly, causing Steve’s heart to squeeze in a painful memory of his own kind mother, God bless her soul.</p><p>And perhaps it was that very memory that encouraged him to speak openly, the genuine worry of a mother who cared deeply for her child, her heart full of love.</p><p>How such woman could end up with such an asshole and <em>stay</em> with him was beyond Steve’s understanding, but he certainly wasn’t in position to judge the choices of the women in your family – after all, he was <em>your</em> choice and there was a long line of people who looked at the two with disdain.</p><p>“For a while,” Steve admitted with a sigh, his gaze automatically flickering towards the bedroom. “She’s—she feels like she disappointed you in a way, she’s scared of the what’s next, but she’s angry too, because she doesn’t think she <em>did</em> anything wrong by being with me.”</p><p>And Steve thought the same… to a point. Didn’t matter that sometimes he would find himself in a dark place where he simply awaited the moment you’d change your mind and left him; for someone your age, with better looks, someone smarted, someone funnier, someone who didn’t have to shave off his beard just so your parents made it through the front door without yelling.</p><p>Such gloomy images always left him more desperate than he was comfortable admitting and with searing jealousy in his gut.</p><p>He <em>needed you.</em> Yes, he’d survive if you left – but he was certain that you’d take his heart with him, leaving him unable to fall in love ever again… or to feel whole, for that matter.</p><p>“She wouldn’t leave you to get her financial support back, Steve,” sounded gently on the other end of the line and Steve’s heart skipped a beat in alarm, brief wonder if he had said any of his latest thoughts out loud.</p><p>He supposed he didn’t – your mother was just too intuitive, just like his used to be. He gulped against his dry throat, suddenly guilty for – in a way – forcing you to leave <em>them.</em></p><p>“…I suppose not… I’m sorry if-- it was never my intention to steal your daughter from you, but I’m- I’m not gonna pretend I mind that she would rather be with me than had her money.”</p><p>“This is not your doing, Steve, don’t you think I don’t know that,” she continued, a subtle smile in her voice, Steve thought. “And it’s good that she’s willing to make this choice. We wouldn’t want the bride to get cold feet, after all.”</p><p>Steve’s heart stopped altogether, he was sure of it. Colour him <em>mortified.</em></p><p>How the hell—but- she couldn’t--- he hadn’t proposed yet and he- <em>what?</em></p><p>His stomach twisted in a tight knot. He couldn’t but ask, voice barely above whisper.</p><p>“…how did you know?”</p><p>“You stopped yourself mid-sentence, Steve. And as cliché as it sounds, you had fire in your eyes, defending my daughter. It is clear to me that you <em>are</em> serious about her, that you love her, and from the little I heard about you, you are the kind of man who would put a ring on it to seal the deal.”</p><p>You mother was definitely smiling <em>now</em> and Steve found himself doing the same, even if the lift of his lips turned sour.</p><p>“I would have asked for parents’ blessings, but…”</p><p>“I give it,” she was quick to assure him and Steve’s breath hitched, his chest puffing with pride, filling with endless relief and joy. <em>Your mother approved of him. Even knowing who he was, how old he was, how—she was willing to give him her blessing!</em> “You seem like a good man, Steve.”</p><p>Steve was both embarrassed and ridiculously proud when he realized he was blinking against tears gathering in his eyes, enormous weight falling from his shoulders.</p><p>“That, uhm—that means a lot, truly,” he choked out, swiftly clearing his throat, the embarrassment definitely winning now. He had to get it together before he gave out how weak he could be in front of your mother… she had given her blessing; she could easily take it back.</p><p>“I like you, Steve. You’re a good blend of an old-fashioned and <em>modern</em> man. Don’t mess it up and keep my daughter happy.”</p><p>“I will try my best, ma’am,” he declared in an instant, meaning every word.</p><p>A sigh sounded from the speaker. “That’s all I ask for… now the less happy reason to call. I talked to Paul, but he… I’m sorry, Steve, as for now, he still isn’t fond of you.” That didn’t surprise Steve, but it hurt nonetheless. Then again, he was grateful that your mother tried to put in a good word for him; that meant a lot too. “He only agreed to pay for three more months.”</p><p>Steve’s free hand balled into fist, the other clutching the phone considerably tighter as hot surge of anger flooded his veins.</p><p><em>Three more payments.</em> As if the relationship with your family was a damn <em>job contract</em> and this was <em>the notice period. </em></p><p>Steve was sure he was going to be sick.</p><p>“Thank you. That’s… we appreciate it,” he managed to grit through his teeth, trying his damnest to remember that he wasn’t mad at the sweet woman – only at her husband.</p><p>“You really are a good man, Steve. You’re good for her. I’m glad she found you.”</p><p>Steve would once again be entirely joyful at being at least your mother’s favour, but he heard you call out his name from the bedroom, low, hoarse and utterly confused and all he could focus on was the idea of you, red-rimmed eyes and messy hair and still adorable, looking for him in the dark room with a pout to your lips.</p><p>“Steve?” your mother called out unsurely and Steve snapped from his reverie.</p><p>“Sorry, uhm, she’s awake-- do you want me to hand you over or-“ he blurted out swiftly, hoping the answer would be no as he couldn’t wait to crawl back to bed with you.</p><p>“No, just tell her I called. I believe you two have things to talk about. Take care of my daughter, Steve. I’ll be in touch.”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p><p>“Jane, Steve,” she offered kindly just as Steve heard the soft patting on your fluffy socks on the floor.</p><p>“Yes, <em>Jane</em>,” he corrected himself then, unable to contain the satisfaction as he tested the name on his tongue. “Thank you, really. Goodnight.”</p><p>He ended the call as you emerged from the bedroom, squinting to the low light, your eyes instantly finding him – he automatically smiled for you, unsubtly splaying his arms wide. You didn’t hesitate, aiming straight into his embrace even if it was at snail pace.</p><p>It was funny and strange and wonderful how Steve still loved simply holding you, his heart calmer the moment he found you melting into his frame. <em>Christ,</em> he loved you… and clearly, your mother noticed; he was so obvious, that-</p><p>“You were gone,” you muttered into his chest discontentedly, nuzzling into him and Steve automatically cradled you to him tighter.</p><p>“Sorry, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Like shit,” you admitted bluntly, propping your chin on his torso to look up at him, eyes growing wide and surprisingly soft with emotion. “More so because I was talking stupid and crying into your shirt instead of comforting you after my dad accused you of the things that--- <em>those</em> things that aren’t right.”</p><p>Steve felt the painful nudge to his consciousness, because he knew there always would be <em>some</em> truth to ‘those’ words; but you were here to dilute the pain and make it all better. Your care for his well-being served like a shield for the sticks and stones for now at least, when you were the priority. You had it worse at the moment, no matter what his former colleague had accused him of in those hate letters – and now your father.</p><p>“Hey, no. Don’t worry about me now.”</p><p>You gazed into his eyes, pushing on your tiptoes to peck his lips and the small gesture of affection was like a balm to his soul, much like your words.</p><p>“But I do. Always. I love you, Steve… I’m sorry we can’t catch a break… but we’ll… somehow, we’ll push through, right?” you whispered, hopeful and wistfully determined and Steve could only nod, feeling the corners of his lips rising.</p><p>“Absolutely, sweetheart. You’re my girl.”</p><p>“And you’re my guy. My prince charming,” you hummed, cradling his unusually smooth cheek, irises full of wonder, the sensation was as foreign to you as it was to him. But it was your babble that made him chuckle, the nickname that seemed to catch on; you were too cute for words. “Guess I am Cinderella after all and somehow you accidentally fell in love with me.”</p><p>“Damn right I did,” he confirmed, brushing your forehead with his lips before tugging you back to the bedroom. “Not all that glitters is gold.”</p><p>“True. Though you <em>might</em> have some glitter from the bathbomb on you.”</p><p>“Cheeky girl.”</p><p>He didn’t bother pretending to be offended or grumpy; he was simply too happy to see some of your snarky teasing side making its return, that was always a good sign.</p><p>“I try… but really, <em>are</em> you okay?”</p><p>Steve didn’t respond at first, climbing to the bed, manoeuvring you to his arms where you belonged and fit so naturally. Only when the lights were out and you were both comfortable, he replied, truthfully.</p><p>“I will be. I have you. Plus, your mum seems to be okay with me.”</p><p>
  <em>More than okay, apparently.</em>
</p><p>Steve’s heart fluttered with a bit of nerves as his mind wandered to the ring he kept in the very room you fell asleep every night.</p><p>“As she should,” you hummed, sounding very pleased. “She has a nose for good people. And you’re the best.”</p><p>“After <em>you</em> at least.”</p><p>“Best <em>man</em>, then,” you argued playfully and Steve was perfectly content to have you think that. It would play in his favour when he would finally find the courage to sink to one knee in front of you.</p><p>“Well, I’m certainly a <em>lucky</em> one… I have the best woman.”</p><p>“Uh-huh. Sure you do. Love you,” you whispered, kissing his chest over the fabric of his sleepshirt and sighing blissfully. “Goodnight, Steve.”</p><p>“Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you too.”</p><p>
  <em>If you only knew how much…</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wink wink. I once again stretched this quite a bit, but hopefully you reached this very end without skipping something ;)</p><p>Thank you for reading and extra thanks if you happen to like, reblog and/or comment. Stay safe and happy!</p><p>(Also, to American friends: I hope you'll have better Thanksgiving than this ;) )</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Stockings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You just wanted to decorate the apartment for a bit, you swear. </p><p>It wasn’t your fault that it was impossible to stay with your mind out of the gutter for longer than five minutes whenever Steve was around.</p><p>  <i>For @wonderlandmind4 seasonal challenge. Prompt: <b>Those - weren’t the kind of stockings I had in mind-“</b></i></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>Warnings:</b> suggestive themes, implied smut with tiny bit of action so 18+, nsfw, language (always), and one (1) trope that has definitely been used before (is that a warning?)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When the idea of decorating first flashed through your mind, it was, honest to God, completely innocent.</p><p>Due to loads of schoolwork, Halloween somehow passed by and you barely noticed, the most festive thing you had done being the indulgent orders of pumpkin spiced lattés and hogging some of the candy for your exam time stress-eating. Candy which just happened to be shaped like spiders, snakes, witches and other lovely stuff.</p><p>But that was it and with ditching the spooky holiday and the Thanksgiving which <em>no one</em> in your apartment was allowed to talk about, you itched to celebrate at least one of the holidays in peace and with everything that belonged with it.</p><p>Gifts, obviously<em>.</em></p><p>Baking, perhaps.</p><p>Decorations, <em>absolutely</em>.</p><p>Last year, you and Penny had gone a bit overboard, fully affected by the holiday madness, and bought half the store (well, as much as your financial situation allowed anyway). Your dorm room looked as if Santa puked there, as Penny elaborately put it, but you both adored it.</p><p>Now, with Steve, you knew you had to be considerably more restrained.</p><p>Not that he would <em>notice </em>if your apartment turned into a damn Santa village, because he was too preoccupied with grading midterm papers. <em>Non-stop,</em> it seemed<em>.</em> The pile never ever appeared to be reducing.</p><p>However, you and Steve had set a rule that even if you were both crazy busy, you’d make time for at least one or two evenings together – simply to take few moments to fully appreciate each other’s company.</p><p>That night, Steve’s mind wandered despite trying to stay focused on you, you could tell. You felt for him, you truly did… but you missed him. Your time together, truly <em>together</em>, became so rare lately and--- you didn’t want to end up like the couple that kisses goodnight and good-morning just because they share quarters and a bed, and ignores one another for the rest of the day.</p><p>Rather than letting the gloomy thoughts consume you though, you tried a different approach; humour.</p><p>After all, that was how your relationship had started, along with loads of awkwardness.</p><p>“Penny says hi, by the way,” you said casually, practically <em>feeling</em> Steve’s absence despite his body engulfing you as you cuddled on the couch, movie on your laptop playing in the background which neither of you were watching.</p><p>Steve hummed, his fingers never ceasing the comforting strokes on your arm.</p><p>You adored him, you did – which really was the reason why you couldn’t but mess with him, tease him for his mental trip to the far-away lands.</p><p>“She and Bucky hooked up again.”</p><p>“Mm.”</p><p>“She still claims he was the best she ever had.”</p><p>“Oh, that’s interesting,” Steve muttered, <em>almost</em> as if he was actually listening to you.</p><p>“I’m meeting them tomorrow both, because they offered me a threesome.”</p><p>“That’s nice.”</p><p>The corners of your lips twitched. God, Steve was lucky to have you to take his mind off his job sometimes, otherwise he would work himself into the ground with how much of his brain space was filled with university matters. He was <em>so</em> detached from life sometimes…</p><p>“Bucky asked if he could film it, do you think I should say yes?”</p><p>“Whatever you think—<em>wait WHAT?!”</em> he cried out, sitting up straight, hence pushing you up too since you had been nestled on his chest.</p><p>Giggles erupted from your throat as you watched his perplexed and scandalized face, realization slowly dawning on him as he probably went over the last few sentences that left your mouth – and his expression gradually melted into an apologetic one, blending into exhaustion as he ran his hand down his face.</p><p>You cupped his cheeks then, leaning in to plant a kiss on his forehead – you would swear it was a fraction hotter than normal, his poor brain overheating – and stifled the aww threatening to spill when Steve closed his eyes contentedly, a hum vibrating in his chest.</p><p>“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing your lips chastely before wrapping his arms around you to hold you close again, face nuzzling your hair. “I’m listening now.”</p><p>You curled into his warmth, much more welcoming than the comforter wrapped around you.</p><p>“It’s okay, Stevie. I know you’re tired. We’ll just call it a night.”</p><p>“But you wanted to talk about something?” he protested softly, earning a hum in affirmation.</p><p>“Just wanted to ask if you’d be okay with me decorating the apartment? Just a bit, to bring a piece of the Christmas spirit in here?”</p><p>You could feel his smile against your scalp as his thumb caressed your shoulders blades, his large form shifting for a bit.</p><p>“We both live here, sweetheart,” he reminded you and you made a tiny sound of protest. Yes, he was correct, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t consult him on stuff before messing with the interior, even if it was with the best intentions. <em>Duh.</em> “But I appreciate you asking. Decorations, huh?”</p><p>You withdrew, meeting his tired eyes with a barely-there twinkle. You smiled at up at him innocently, showing him a tiny space between your thumb and index finger.</p><p>“Just a little bit. Just the basics…”</p><p>“Uh-huh. <em>The basics.</em> So that’s what? Christmas lights, stockings, mistletoe, a tree?” he mused, his thumb moving to your chin, to your lower lip, brushing it tenderly as you nodded minutely with a smile. His irises lit up a fraction with that image he must have painted in his mind and you felt familiar warmth around your heart at the sight. “I guess we’ll have to talk about getting a tree then. But it sounds nice, babygirl. The mistletoe in particular.”</p><p>He proceeded to capture that lips with his, lazy but indulgent kiss that sent pleasant sparkles down your spine and yet made you sleepy as it was soothing, feeling like home.</p><p>“Yeah. Sounds nice,” you echoed dreamily, meeting his lips again in a short kiss before nudging him to stand up so you could begin to move to bed.</p><p>Only later it occurred to you just how <em>nice</em> you could do with the stuff Steve had mentioned if you tried – and you fell asleep in his arms, a menacing grin that would make Grinch green with envy on your lips.</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>Carrying the box after hanging one mistletoe branchlet in the kitchen along with very few fairy lights in the window, you were ready to move onto the bedroom, where Steve was, <em>again,</em> working.</p><p>Not for long, you hoped – after all, you put notable effort into your appearance.</p><p>With a small smirk on your lips, you knocked on the separating wall, peeking from behind it, trying your best not reveal too much.</p><p>Steve didn’t even bother looking up, a semi-loud hum the only sign of him acknowledging your presence.</p><p>“I’m gonna decorate this room… you mind me messing around for a bit?” you asked, attempting to sound compassionate about his workload, which you <em>were, </em>and perfectly innocent, which you were <em>not.</em></p><p>That got him eye you briefly, an unconvincing smile passing his lips.</p><p>“Sure, go ahead,” he encouraged you softly. He turned his gaze back to the papers on his desk and started writing notes before you could even respond – hence missing your victorious smile.</p><p>“Thanks!”</p><p>You gleefully walked in, steps soundless against the floor thanks to the thin fabric covering your soles, and placed the box on your own desk.</p><p>The rustle of papers and the sudden lack of scribbling sound had you biting your cheek so you wouldn’t burst out laughing.</p><p>Steve cleared his throat loudly; when you looked at him over your shoulder however, he went back to reading his damn papers.</p><p>You swallowed your disappointment, trying not to think much of it – Steve could be very patient when he wanted to be – or very impulsive. And sometimes, he was both at the same time.</p><p>So you pressed your lips together and removed the other branchlet of mistletoe from the top of the box, following with Christmas lights, putting whatever you needed on the desk.</p><p>“Sweetheart…” Steve’s voice sounded from his seat, partly amused, partly… hoarse, <em>affected, </em>and you had to bite your lips so the giggles wouldn’t spill out. <em>“What</em> are you wearing?”</p><p>You turned to him, making a show of checking your outfit, letting your palms sprawl over your barely covered thighs and slowly moving them up, the hem of Steve’s loose ivory sweater hiking up an inch and revealing the lace of your thigh-high crimson stockings; perhaps even offering a peek of the straps holding them in place due to the garter belt.</p><p>“Your old sweater… and stockings,” you offered with a one-shoulder shrug, cool as cucumber in December – or as yourself teasing your loveable boyfriend at the end of November – on the outside, giddy on the inside as his gaze trailed all over your figure, wavering at the lace and the patch of skin on display, before focusing on your face.</p><p><strong>“Those-- those weren’t the kind of stockings I had in mind--</strong> when I, uhm, talked about decorating this place,” he explained.</p><p>He sounded almost patient, as if it wasn’t clear as day. His irises, however, were <em>not</em> clear – a cloud of desire covered them, turning them a shade darker, hungrier.</p><p>It sent a pleasant shiver up your spine, heat pooling in your belly, satisfaction at inching closer to your goal causing your chest nearly puff with pride.</p><p>“Oh, my bad!” you exclaimed, chuckling self-depreciatingly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you eyed Steve from under your eyelashes, picture perfect of innocence… not. “Silly me! I’m sorry, I know how much you <em>hate </em>me in stockings…”</p><p>
  <em>“Babygirl…”</em>
</p><p>His voice resembled a growl, a low warning not to toy with him – which was exactly what you <em>did</em> want to do, teasing him shamelessly when having added emphasis on him not liking your attire.</p><p>Stockings and/or his clothes on you got your boyfriend going in fact, sometimes for hours even, thank you very much.</p><p>“Yes, Steve?”</p><p>“This isn’t going to work, you know. I really have to finish these,” he stated and you most definitely didn’t imagine the impatience and his dislike towards his task sneaking into his voice.</p><p>“I have no idea what you’re talking about. These are just…” you bit gently on your lower lip, sliding your palms up and down your thighs, Steve’s gaze following the motion instinctively, pupils dilating with the craving to replace your hands with his own, “…comfy, just like your sweater. You never minded when I borrowed it before—you know I <em>love</em> stealing it. It just… it smells like you and it’s warm. It’s like you’re all over me. It’s <em>perfect.”</em></p><p>His glare zeroed on your mouth, slightly accented by a natural, yet visible shade of your lipstick. Steve didn’t say a word, simply staring – and shifting slightly in his seat, much to your glee, which hopefully didn’t show too much – and grumbling an unidentifiable noise.</p><p>You felt for him, you truly did – god knew that sometimes, you were overwhelmed with schoolwork too – but that didn’t stop you from smiling at him sweetly now, adding an apologetic tone to your next words.</p><p>“Sorry. I talk too much. Don’t let me disturb you. You have work to do and so do I. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”</p><p>Then you spun on your heels and went back to continue your previous activity, laying out decorations on your desk.</p><p>Steve only grunted behind you, but you could hear him as he started going through the papers again, probably trying – and hopefully failing – to ignore your presence.</p><p>It wasn’t that you wanted to be mean, there was no single drop of malice in your plan; Steve <em>needed</em> <em>to</em> get his head off his work for a bit, even if he wasn’t aware of it. The way he was overworking himself was beginning to threaten to his sanity.</p><p>You simply wanted to help and this was just the way that had crossed your mind first; it was entirely on Steve and his stupidly perfect <em>everything</em> that you couldn’t seem to get your head out of the gutter sometimes when in his presence.</p><p>You wished nothing more than for him to turn off his brain… and to relax and enjoy himself.</p><p>Clearly, he was enjoying the view indeed.</p><p>You caught his sharp inhale when you <em>accidentally</em> dropped a tacky plastic Santa and proceeded to bend over to pick it up… offering Steve a perfect view of your rear and revealing the smart garter belt you wore; with nothing as much as a thong, leaving your most intimate areas bare.</p><p>You heard him shuffling in the chair and had to smirk, mentally counting down the time until his resolve broke.</p><p>He was holding up quite bravely – nearly long enough to make you doubt your ability to seduce him. Except the shuffle of papers that followed sounded as if he was trying to make a point and you knew that the breaking point was on horizon.</p><p>So when the time came to set in motion what you assumed would be the final strike – pushing the chair from your desk to the middle of the room to get ready to put your stockings on display right in his natural line of vision – you delicately took the branchlet of mistletoe with you, climbing up and carefully tying it to the lamp.</p><p>Steve’s pen hit the desk with a click and you quickly shot him a glance, meeting his stern and yet rather amused eyes. He sighed at your ridiculously unsubtle antics, but one corner of his lips rose anyway.</p><p>“Alright, that’s it. Get down here, you little minx,” he huffed.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, sweet victory.</em>
</p><p>Mirroring his expression, you retorted cheekily: “Come get me.”</p><p>There was no missing the dangerous glint in is eye as he rose to his feet and stalked to your chair, a smirk playing on his lips, every movement purposeful and precise as if he was a predator chasing his prey to the corner.</p><p>Your breathing picked up as he neared, your heart pounding, chest heaving quickly – fuck, wasn’t it an erotic sight, Steve’s figure cladded in plain t-shirt and sweats, looking up at you as if he was about to eat you alive.</p><p>Maybe it was the expression on his face, somewhere between aroused, amused, cocky and predatory at the same time. Maybe it was the outline of his semi-hard dick on his sweatpants. But shit, you knew you were in trouble, you <em>loved it</em>, and you might have been <em>this</em> close to drooling. You were glad for forgoing underwear, because it would be absolutely useless and soaked through in an instant.</p><p>And Steve hadn’t even started yet.</p><p>Stopping right in front of you, craning his neck only <em>a bit</em> to face you (the tall bastard), his wide palms sprawled over your calves, their heat warming you from inside out. </p><p>An appreciative hum rumbled in his chest as his touch trailed up at torturously slow pace, drinking in the sight of your ragged breaths, indulging in every inch he laid his hands on. You couldn’t withhold the shudder running through your whole body and his grin widened.</p><p>“You’re such a fucking tease….” he whispered, licking his lips as his gaze fell lower again, following the movements of his hands, clasping the back of your thighs now, inching toward their inner part, fingers brushing the hem of your stockings.</p><p>“Is it-“ You had to clear your throat against the lump that grew there, your body buzzing with anticipation, the smart remark growing heavy on your tongue. <em>“Is </em>it teasing when you can just take what you want?”</p><p>He chuckled, a delicious dark sound, bringing more slickness between your legs, much to his apparent satisfaction as he set eyes on his prize.</p><p>“Downright naughty…”</p><p>His mouth landed softly on the inside of your right calf, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs to nudge them few inches apart to make space for him.</p><p>“Does that… uhm, does that mean I won’t be getting any presents from Santa this year?”</p><p>You had genuinely no clue how you managed to form a sentence through the fog of arousal around your brain, only growing thicker when Steve’s teeth grazed the skin above your knee, his fingertips brushing an extremely sensitive spot <em>so</em> close to your core.</p><p>“You could come down now, be a very<em> good girl</em> and I might put in a good word for you,” he muttered, biting down some more, drawing a mewl from your lips, another one escaping you when he snapped one of the strings holding your stockings in place.</p><p>The sharp gentle pain was enough to make words roll off your tongue.</p><p>“You think that would work?”</p><p>“Oh sweetheart…” Steve chuckled again, a huff of breath warming your thighs, before his eyes, wide-blown and hungry, met yours. “If it doesn’t… you can be damn sure I’m gonna give you fucking <em>everything</em> I have.”</p><p>You yelped when his grip on the back of your thighs tightened and he tugged you forward, your hands instantly going to his shoulders to maintain balance as you found yourself with no surface under your feet all of sudden.</p><p>He grinned up at you – the <em>show-off</em>, but by God, wasn’t the demonstration of strength setting your body on fire, rendering you speechless – and slowly lowered you to the ground, half-lidded eyes zeroed on your lips. He made damn sure that you felt his erection against your body at all time as he always loosened his grip and tightened it a second later, until your feet touched the ground – and yet you felt your legs shaking, unsteady with the need to feel more of him.</p><p>It dawned to you how crazy he managed to drive you, your roles reversed, your plan backfiring. But was it? Backfiring? Because you couldn’t <em>wait</em> to see how it would unfold--</p><p>His hands slipped under the sweater you stole from him, one grasping your hip to hold you tight against his body, fingers of the other diving into the pool of slick between your legs, causing you to jerk forward into his hand.</p><p>He leaned down to nip at the skin of your neck right under your ear, forefinger circling your clit for a good measure, drawing a needy moan from you.</p><p>“And I bet you’re gonna take it…” he hummed into your ear, satisfied smile audible in his hoarse voice, “and thank me for it like the good girl you are.”</p><p>You barely forced the words out, heavy with desire but any less true.</p><p>“Yes, Professor Rogers. I think I will.”</p><p>“Damn right.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I really wanted to come up with an original title… and failed. Also, it was supposed to be a drabble, but you know that I tend to babble… and rhyme, apparently.</p><p>Thank you for reading and for any kind of feedback :-*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. The One Word</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>aka <b>The Three Times Steve Didn’t Get to Hear the One Word He Wanted and the One Time He Did</b></p><p>In which Steve really, really wants to ask you the question, but the odds are always against him – absurdly so. Maybe it’s fate and he shouldn’t ask.</p><p>Or maybe the universe just hates him and punishes him for tainting a girl like you and wanting you all for himself officially.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I say this to you, my friends – I do not at all envy men in a heterosexual relationship for being expected to pop the question. I would chicken out every time, I’m sure of it. Enjoy!</p><p><b>Warnings:</b> lots of swearing, crack-ish, briefest smut so 18+ only please, sickness and fluff</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve liked to think important things through. He liked <em>planning.</em> He liked to have all the facts and view things from different angles before making a decision.</p><p>Therefore, wanting to marry you was something he was perfectly certain of and two months after he received your mother’s blessings – two months of slowly reducing costs, preparing to lower incomes, not that they had ever been glorious ever –, Steve had a feeling that the time was finally right and that he was ready to pop the question. He <em>was</em>.</p><p>The only problem was that the universe started plotting against him.</p><p>Big time.</p><p><a id="_Toc59795538" name="_Toc59795538"></a>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>1.</p><p>Palmeri was a relatively new restaurant, but quickly gaining reputation. Steve had heard Carol talking about taking her girlfriend there for the fun of trying a new spot and getting a taste of fancy Italian. Clearly that had a good time; the moment he learned, he started considering it. Two days later, he had to make a reservation for a week later, because the word of the delicious food travelled fast.</p><p>That was fine with him, even if he felt like he was about to jump out of his skin before the date finally arrived. Still, he advertised the fact to you that he would like to celebrate your early wrapped up exams already foreshadowing that you would obviously slayed the one you were supposed to have a day prior Friday.</p><p>When you heard the name of the restaurant, your eyes twinkled like fairy lights, a squeal of delight escaping your lips before they swiftly found his to kiss him crazy. Steve’s heart thundered in his chest as you ran off back to your books with newly-found motivation, his nerves mingling with the satisfaction that you appreciated his idea – even if you couldn’t have no clue about what he was about to do.</p><p>He could only hope that you’d be as delighted at him sinking to one knee.</p><p>But he would have to <em>get out of this fucking interfaculty meeting FIRST!</em></p><p>“Seeing as the satisfaction of the students apparently took a nose dive according to the university poll last month…” Fury continued rambling, his serious and mildly snarky voice carrying through the conference room, as if mocking Steve who anxiously eyed the clock, again.</p><p>The reservation was for seven thirty.</p><p>It was five to seven.</p><p>Half an hour ago, Steve <em>hated</em> the idea of not taking a shower and looking his absolute best while proposing to you.</p><p>Now? Every option looked better than <em>this. </em>He would arrive to the restaurant all sweaty and catching his breath if he took off <em>right this moment.</em> And even that seemed impossible; president Fury, that <em>son of a bitch,</em> was nowhere close to ending the meeting.</p><p>51 weeks. 51 Fridays Fury could have called the meeting.</p><p>Nope, that bastard picked <em>this one</em>, the one Friday Steve was planning on sweeping you off your feet and asking you to be his for the rest of your lives.</p><p>Fucking <em>asshole</em>.</p><p>“Got anything to add, Professor Rogers?” a gruff voice asked him and Steve jumped in his chair and nearly dropped the phone he was pulling out of his pocket to text you with his deepest regrets – but he had to, otherwise you’d already be on your way.</p><p>Best if he saved you the embarrassment; best if you stayed home at least, all dolled up and pretty and smiling for him to show off.</p><p>Goddammit <em>fuck</em>.</p><p>Steve’s eyes snapped to Fury, meeting a glare that seemed even sterner with only one functioning eye.</p><p>Steve gritted his teeth and determinedly gripping his phone.</p><p>“No,” he shot back, biting his cheek when Fury’s eyebrow rose at his snappy tone. “I mean… I need to make a phone call. If you’d excuse me, it will be just a minute.”</p><p><em>Likely story.</em> He would have to be apologizing for at least three minutes straight and then crawl on his knees when he finally got back home; not because you’d be so unforgiving and angry, but because it would be the right thing to do after disappointing your precious heart.</p><p>He was about to make you <em>sad.</em> He fucking hated making you sad.</p><p>“Make it three tops,” the president grumbled, but luckily didn’t pry <em>what</em> was so important for him to leave the room.</p><p>“Stevie!” your bright voice greeted him from the speaker and Steve’s heart seized in his chest, his fist automatically clenching in anger. He was about to <em>crush</em> <em>you</em> because of a dumb-ass useless meeting. He brought the fist to his mouth to stop himself from greeting you equally delighted way and fleeting the university grounds. “I’m just about to take off! I was getting worried you wouldn’t make it. Did Fury give you a hard time? … Steve?”</p><p>Steve, much to his horror, found his eyes prickling with tears of frustration as his name on your lips sounded suddenly unsure.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck. This.</em>
</p><p>“Hey babygirl,” he said finally and the roughness of his voice must have been everything you needed to hear to understand.</p><p>“You can’t make it.”</p><p>Steve wanted to tear his hair out at the defeat in your voice. Talk about a <em>nose dive</em> of your mood.  He was gonna fucking scream.</p><p>“I’m so sorry,” he whispered instead, the apology so pathetic in comparison to what he wanted to say.</p><p>But that was the irony – you couldn’t even begin to guess how much it sucked for the two of you to not being able to go to the damn Palmeri. You didn’t <em>know</em> the main tragedy, only a part of it. You didn’t know he had been about to propose.</p><p>Silence stretched between the two of you and Steve tilted his head back, blinking against the sting in his eyes, his stomach sinking to his feet.</p><p>“It’s not your fault,” you sighed eventually, sounding as if you were trying to convince him as much as yourself.</p><p>Steve could imagine precisely the disappointment on your face, the fall of your expression, pretty features no doubt having been accented by make-up just the right amount twisting. He could see clearly how your lips made for smiles turned downward, lower lip maybe even trembling a bit.</p><p>Steve was gonna <em>murder</em> Fury.</p><p>“But it is. I’m so sorry, I know how excited you were and so was I and— I’m just really sorry.”</p><p>“I know, Steve,” you breathed out weakly and he could hear the attempt of a smile in your next words. “Come home soon, yeah? I’ll wait for you.”</p><p>Steve’s heart grew in size so rapidly it actually <em>hurt.</em></p><p>“I love you, sweetheart. I know--- I know you might not wanna hear it now and that it doesn’t mean much, but I really do,” he creaked.</p><p>“It does. Bye, Steve.”</p><p>Steve’s fingers clutched at the phone, eyes falling shut in defeat.</p><p>You were nice about it, sure, but the fact that you didn’t say <em>I love you</em> back didn’t escape him as didn’t the switch from Stevie to Steve; the subtle hints sat heavily in his gut as he returned to the room.</p><p>He met Bucky’s compassionate gaze – of course Buck knew about <em>why</em> Steve was distracted during the assembly – and quickly looked away, once again excusing himself for the interruption even if there was nothing sincere about his words.</p><p>His chest ached for the rest of the meeting – and would for the rest of the night.</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>He did <em>not</em> come home soon – in fact, it was nearing eleven when he finally opened the door, trying to make no sound when he found the apartment plunged into dark. He grimaced, jaw clenching; you were already asleep.</p><p>A fresh surge of anger shot into his veins; the university hated him, he was certain of it – and the other way around. He had missed his shot because of a meeting that was literally about <em>nothing. Fuck his life.</em></p><p>He grumbled, the only sound he allowed himself to make when moving around the apartment, switching the dimmest light he could as not to wake you – because disappointing you was enough, the least he could do was not to disturb your sleep.</p><p>Frustrated, tired and <em>hungry,</em> he tiptoed to the kitchen to grab a bite. He was starving and even though he was exhausted and craved nothing but to wrap his arms around you and sink into the cushions, he knew hunger would wake him up a few hours later if he went to bed with an empty stomach.</p><p>Upon opening the fridge, a surprise welcomed him; a ham &amp; cheese sandwich ready on a plate, a small Tupperware box with pieces of tomatoes and cucumber on side, a sticky note simply reading ‘Stevie’.</p><p>His breath got stuck in his throat, heart hammering in his ribcage – that was how moved he was by your gesture. He knew that you must have been as upset as you had been excited to have the fancy dinner with him, but here you were, pushing your sorrows and anger aside and preparing him food, a possible olive branch.</p><p>The sandwich was nothing <em>fancy</em> by any means; but God, Steve loved you just a little bit more at that moment for he didn’t have to move a finger to eat so late <em>and</em> you even took care to set his vegetables aside, because you knew how much he hated when the bread got squishy with the juice.  </p><p>Gratefully biting into his late-night meal, Steve swore to himself he would spend the rest of his life spoiling you rotten.</p><p>When he finally got to cautiously cuddle you from behind – eyeing the absolutely <em>stunning </em>dress you were supposed to wear hanging outside the closet as if there to mock him – you stirred at the dip of the mattress.</p><p>Lazily blinking your eyes open, you welcomed him with a raspy <em>hey</em> and he had a half mind to just take the ring from the safety of its velvet box and slip it on your finger right there.</p><p>“I’m sorry, babygirl. I’m so so sorry,” he whispered, tentatively wrapping his arm around your midsection, unsure if he wasn’t in disgrace after all. You just hummed and rolled over to face him, burying your face in his chest, heavy limbs wrapping around him as if you were an octopus – the most adorable, precious, beautiful and perfect octopus in the world. <em>His octopus.</em> “I love you so much. I promise to make it up to you.”</p><p>“Uh-huh. Looking forward to it. Now sleep,” you mumbled to Steve’s sleepshirt, half-grumpy half-sounding as if not caring for what he was saying at all, causing him to feel warm all over.</p><p>Oh he was so going to show you just how he could make it up to you. He would marry the shit out of you.</p><p>Just you wait.</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>
  <strong>2.</strong>
</p><p>Because of a water incident, Palmeri closed three days after Steve’s first failed attempt – and assumptions were that it would remain so for a month, because they needed to redecorate.</p><p>That meant a new plan for Steve, because he could <em>not</em> wait that long. Out of question. He needed to hear you say <em>yes</em> as soon as possible. Yesterday had been too late.</p><p>So, he asked Sam for a recommendation – casually, he believed – and somehow ended up with the man looking at him for a few seconds before realization dawned on his face.</p><p>“Oooooh, I see how it is! Need something real nice, huh?” Sam whistled, a teasing grin on his face as he patted Steve’s shoulder for support. “Relax, I gotcha, man. All you need; cosy atmosphere, but classy, white table cloths and everything. The right place to take her to in order to butter her up and make her all putty.”</p><p>Steve didn’t manage to quite hide his embarrassment at being so obvious, but he knew that Sam was a friend and all his shit-talking was good-natured, always knowing where the boundaries were; he wasn’t a counsellor for nothing.</p><p>And Steve had to give it to him – the place he recommended was just what he promised it would be and exactly what Steve needed.</p><p>You were all smiles and some giggles, little tipsy on the second glass of the wine, eyes shining in the dim lights, somehow lighting up more whenever you caught him staring at you. It was the perfect display of all the good things you were, ones he adored about you, the light of <em>his</em> life and gazing at him as if he was yours too.</p><p>Downing some of the liquid courage himself and with you so gorgeously giddy, Steve felt his confidence building up during the night and was just about ready to get on one knee once you finished your shared dessert.</p><p>“This is good!” you gushed, digging the fork if into the cake to get another bite and Steve grinned, unable to help himself as he agreed.</p><p>“Uh-huh, sweet. But not as sweet as you.”</p><p>You stopped mid-chew, eyes meeting his and he felt his face burn hot with embarrassment at such cheesy comment.</p><p>You swallowed, gaze still fixed on him as he busied himself with the sweet treat, and then you chuckled, causing his face to turn <em>entirely</em> red.</p><p>“You, Steve Rogers, are <em>so </em>corny sometimes,” you mocked him lightly, but when he looked up, sheepish and with his confidence bruised, he found you all starry-eyed still, watching him adoringly as if he hung the moon – and he would, for you – and Steve felt himself settle again. “But I still love you. Maybe even more for that.”</p><p>It was a wonderful opening, things really going his way – but he hesitated a second too long, like an idiot, and the next thing he knew, a string quartet, <em>a damn string quartet, </em>walked straight to the elderly couple two tables over, one of the group congratulating them to their thirtieth anniversary and at that moment…</p><p>Well. At that moment, Steve really fucking <em>hated them.</em></p><p>Who fucking cared they were a sweet elderly couple?! Steve could only dream about you two becoming them one day as of now, because they ruined just another of his fucking shots!</p><p>He couldn’t <em>believe</em> that he missed his window again.</p><p>And what more, you cooed under your breath, a silent aww falling from your lips and Steve knew that anything less than a string quartet accompanying a marriage proposal when delivered in a restaurant was a no-go.</p><p>So scratch <em>that one</em> off the list.</p><p>All guests clapped their hands, more of awws coming from different directions and you proceeded to take his hand, gentle fingers stroking over his knuckles and Steve knew one thing with absolute certainty; he needed to propose tonight otherwise he might <em>burst.</em></p><p>At home then, he would ask you <em>at home</em>. Who even wanted something as cliché and public as he had planned? Lame. You were a private pair, some people still judged you upon seeing you together; a little intimate proposal in your home<em> after</em> a fancy sweet dinner would be just the thing.</p><p>Steve just had to figure how exactly and at what moment to ask. He’d be fine. You’d say yes. Right?</p><p>He was so preoccupied with his thoughts and plans that he barely noticed you growing skittish during the taxi ride, but he certainly noticed when you started practically jumping by his side as he was unlocking the door to your apartment, confused by your antics.</p><p>The second Steve opened it and stepped inside, he found himself being shoved back-first towards a wall, your hands on his chest, sliding up and down his coat and blindly undoing the buttons as your mouth assaulted his, a soft mewl vibrating against his lips, wandering hands appreciative when they slipped under the lapels of his coat and jacket.</p><p>Steve’s head spun at the display of desire, a sudden pleasant dizziness overtaking his body, all rational thoughts vaporizing as you rocked against his crotch, his cock twitching in excitement at the friction and at the way his tongue had to fight against yours. His brain grew foggy at the faint taste of wine and the cake you had shared, his hands automatically grabbing your waist to keep you close, fingers squeezing your hips and ass to urge you closer when he rolled his hips against yours, eliciting needy moans from your lips-</p><p>You withdrew for just a second to catch your breath, lips skimming over his jaw, revelling at the feel of his beard on your skin he knew you loved, hasty words whispered into his flesh.</p><p>“Dammit, Steve, you look so fucking hot in this suit--- oh <em>Stevie,”</em> you whimpered when his hands slipped under your backside to tease your clothed weeping core, the sensation setting his blood on fire, the delicious friction and your dirty mouth <em>everything</em> that mattered in the world. “Let me suck you off-“</p><p>Steve nearly choked on his own spit upon hearing that, almost losing his balance with his legs turning into jelly and all his blood rushing into his dick.</p><p>Yeah, Steve might be a professor but he was a simple guy.</p><p>When his girl, in those stunning hot as hell dress begged him to let her get on her knees to blow his dick and his mind, he really couldn’t find himself refusing, the coil in his belly searing hot by the time you looked up at him from under your eyelashes, so pretty, doe-eyed, lips kiss-swollen and willing and so fucking devilish as you freed his cock and licked the drop of precum already forming there.</p><p><em>“Fuck,</em> babygirl, what’s gotten into you-“ was all he managed to ask before all he could think off was the velvety heat of your mouth, taking him all in and making him see stars, the jewellery box in the pocket of his coat long forgotten.</p><p>And <em>fuck</em> was also his first coherent thought in the morning, when he realized that once again, the proposal attempt ended up being an utter failure.</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>
  <strong>3.</strong>
</p><p>Steve had established after his two and half failed proposals that he wouldn’t make any reservations in some dumb restaurant. Just no. Privacy it would be; something personal, accompanied with a simple and yet big enough gesture, him doing something just for you, following with words of you being his world or something.</p><p>Yeah.</p><p>And for once, it seemed that the universe that had seemed to hate him, finally started playing in his favour.</p><p>The weather was going crazy, sun and spring in a middle of February and Steve had a revelation – he was going to take you out for a picnic. It was going to be perfect; he’d take you outside the city, find a quiet corner, just you and him, nothing in your way and more importantly, in <em>his</em> way to pop the question.</p><p>Steve was certain that you’d prefer this to anything else anyway, loving when he made an effort to create something for you. He still remembered when you first discovered he enjoyed drawing and you practically melted into a puddle when you found drawings of yourself too, allegedly displaying you prettier than you were – as if.</p><p>So, picnic it was.</p><p>Except on Friday, the day before THE DAY, Steve woke up with a splitting headache, his whole body hurting, nose full and lungs as if stuffed with cotton wool. He blamed the crazy weather, but it didn’t really matter where this sickness came from – he felt like <em>shit.</em></p><p>He groaned and downright <em>punched</em> the alarm on his phone, startling you awake.</p><p>With bleary gaze, he registered you rolling over in his arms, squirming at him sleepily as he let his eyelids slip shut again.</p><p>“Steve, hun, are you okay?” you asked him softly, voice husky as he loved to hear it when you woke up, too adorable for him to keep his hands off you.</p><p>He sure as fuck wasn’t thinking about sweet and filthy morning loving now; he would have coughed out his lungs if he tried to move too much and some parts of him might fall off judging by how much everything hurt.</p><p>“Yeah,” he rasped, throat scratchy at the single word and as if from a distance, he heard a noise of sympathy, your palm instantly finding his forehead, gentle touch soothing against his burning skin.</p><p>“You’re absolutely <em>not</em> okay<em>.</em> Stevie, you’re burning up,” you whispered compassionately and Steve blinked his eyes open, the little light in the room causing him to snap them close again immediately. <em>Ouch.</em></p><p>“Fuck my liiiiife,” he groaned, prolonging the last syllable, which proved to be a wrong thing to do, sending him into a couching fit due to his scratchy throat.</p><p>Your hands roamed his shoulders and back as he rolled over to his side from you, hoping to suck in some air to continue coughing.</p><p>“Oh Stevie, I’m sorry. I’ll bring you some medicine when I’m back from school, yeah? And I’ll make some soup,” you assured him kindly, dropping a kiss to his shoulder before your pleasant warmth disappeared, leaving him too cold and hot at the same time.</p><p>
  <em>Seriously. FUCK HIS LIFE.</em>
</p><p>Grunting, he fell to his back, exhausted by one stupid coughing fit, whole body heavy; and he must have fallen asleep too, because the next thing he knew, soft lips were touching his forehead, tender fingers brushing messy strands of hair away. He stirred, forcing his eyes open to be greeted by a sight of that angelic face of yours, complete with a halo of light around you.</p><p>“I already called Bucky. He’ll sort out your classes today, alright? There’s a tea on your nightstand along with some last Tylenol we have.”</p><p>Steve squinted in the direction of the piece of furniture you mentioned and sure enough, there it was, everything you said it would.</p><p>What a pretty dutiful nurse you were. God, he loved you.</p><p>As he eyed you then, deep sense of longing settled in his swimming stomach, more so as he didn’t miss the gorgeous thermo leggings and long sweater hugging your figure, reaching your mid-thighs.</p><p>All Steve wanted was to pull you back to him so he had a human furnace in bed with him, the soothing smell of your shampoo to comfort him – even though he probably wouldn’t be able to smell it. But his hands would still be able to explore your delicious body, grope and hold it close to his and you could maybe ramble about everything and anything, lulling him to sleep.</p><p>But no, you were leaving to school, leaving <em>him</em> alone in the apartment.</p><p>Just him, himself and his fucking flu.</p><p>He eyed you wistfully, lips pursed at your concerned expression.</p><p>“When you’ll be back?”</p><p>The wrinkle between your brows smoothened, a smile playing in the corner of your mouth.</p><p>“I have class until eleven. I see what I can do. I’m gonna have to hit the pharmacy and make some shopping,” you explained patiently, casing Steve to groan. Too long. So so long… Your smile widened, another kiss landing on his temple this time. “But I’ll be back before you know it. Get some rest, Professor Rogers.”</p><p>Your teasing tone made him growl, the action effectively sending him into another coughing fit and through glassy eyes, he saw you disappear from the room with one last glance over your shoulder.</p><p>Steve closed his eyes and breathed in deeply – oh, the delicious air – and then buried himself in the covers, praying that a decent sleep would make him feel better.</p><p>It didn’t, not quite. What <em>did</em> make him feel much better was the Tylenol and the sirup you brought along.</p><p>The absolute best was when you were there for him to cuddle you to sleep in the evening; somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware that he was being a giant baby and was being utterly ridiculous, but God help him, this was all he needed the whole day.</p><p>He sighed blissfully as he hugged your midsection while you were sitting propped on the back-rest, soft light from the nightlamp illuminating the pages of the book you were reading. You were warmth, the gentle kind and Steve felt you seeping into him, fingers of one hand raking through his hair; he felt himself getting high on your loving care and cough sirup.</p><p>“I love having you here,” he muttered into the fabric of your pyjama, feeling you shift in your position a little, probably as you looked at him.</p><p>“Yeah?” you asked, sounding as if you were smiling, maybe even laughing at him; but he couldn’t care less, already drifting off to sleep, just content to have you.</p><p>“You’re warm and nice… and the prettiest nurse. And I love you. You’re my everything.”</p><p>“Oh Stevie,” you cooed sweetly, kissing the crown of his head and he preened at the sensation, smiling lazily. “I love you too.”</p><p>His heart skipped a beat as he nuzzled into your flesh and heard you gently toss the book away, your other hand now caressing his cheek.</p><p>“Yeah? Will you always be here? I want you to always be with me,” he admitted sheepishly, drawing a soft giggle and earning a kiss on his forehead.</p><p>
  <em>“God, you’re adorable like this…”</em>
</p><p>Steve grunted, discontent with your reaction. “Not an answer.”</p><p>“I’ll always be here if you want me to, Stevie,” you answered dutifully, causing warmth fill his chest even if your body was shaking with hushed laughter; he felt it, but didn’t care. For your words however, he did; phew, as if he ever wanted something else, as if you had the right to question that!</p><p>He really needed to propose soon… just not tomorrow. You’d probably say no if he asked you, blaming his request on the fever. Naively.</p><p>“I wanna,” he mumbled, trying to squeeze you tighter. “Mine. My pretty girl. My babygirl. Forever.”</p><p>“Forever is a long time,” you noted, smile once again lacing your voice, along with an emotion, oh so soft one, he didn’t have the capacity to identify anymore. “But that’s what it’ll be if that’s what you want.”</p><p>Finally satisfied and with determination in the back of his mind, Steve let your love bridge him over to the dreamland, distantly aware of your fingers still playing with his hair.</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>
  <strong>+1</strong>
</p><p>Steve’s mother used to say his that flu lasted a week under a doctor’s care; and seven days without it. Of course, when he was younger with many health issues, it was more complicated than that, but he got the message.</p><p>Under your care, he felt considerably better after five days, only a mild case of a runny nose remaining. On a Thursday morning, he even found himself awake before you did, before your alarm went off.</p><p>Contemplating whether he should stay in bed with you or get shit done, he lazily scooped away a bit and propped himself on his elbow to feast his eyes on his pretty nurse.</p><p>Your hair was a messy halo around your head, your brows were lightly crooked as if you were having an unpleasant dream, your lips parted just a fraction, the softest snort escaping you.</p><p>Steve felt himself grin, a love-sick lift of the corners of his lips.</p><p>You were so freaking cute.</p><p>And seeing you, relaxed, but clearly catching up with sleep to beat your exhaustion to which he abundantly contributed, he knew he couldn’t stay in bed; in fact, he had to make you breakfast to bed, for all the troubles he put you through and for the attentive care you lavished him with.</p><p>Sure, when he was getting overly needy and whiny or cranky, you weren’t shy to call him out on his shit – which only made him love you more – but otherwise you were admirably patient.</p><p>As if he hadn’t already known that you were a keeper before that; this only solidified his conviction. If everything about you didn’t scream put a ring on it, then he wasn’t Steven Grant Rogers.</p><p>Hell, he had a half-mind to propose you just at that moment, all domestic atmosphere and sweet gesture like breakfast in bed, but he wasn’t certain it wouldn’t look like the past few days were what pushed him over the edge. That would only be a half-truth--- quarter-truth?</p><p>Shaking his head at his own dumb thoughts, he gathered the pancakes, yogurt, various pieces of fruit and obviously, a coffee, laying it on a tray he had nearly forgotten he owned and tiptoed to the bedroom, honestly surprised that you hadn’t woken up yet with him fumbling around.</p><p>He stopped dead in his tracks when you sighed and stirred, rolling over and stretching out a hand as if in a search for him, only to find the space empty. Something between a hum and a damn <em>meowl</em> fell from your lips and Steve had to remind himself what it was he wanted to do besides trying his best to find out how exactly he could make you repeat that sound.</p><p>So precious. Absolutely adorable. Beautiful. <em>Tempting.</em></p><p>You clutched the empty sheets, but didn’t wake and Steve crossed the distance to the bed, carefully setting the tray on the nightstand as he went to sit on the bed next to your waist, a dopy smile on his face.</p><p>Laying a hand on your thigh, he squeezed a little, attempting to wake you gently; he knew you got jumpy when something tickled your face, so this was the safer option.</p><p>You stirred once again, but didn’t wake, your eyes only fluttering open when he called your name a few times, alternating with your favourite term of endearment.</p><p>You squinted at him, appearing confused and groaning. Steve grinned.</p><p>“Morning, sunshine,” he hummed, finally allowing himself to run the pads of his fingers from your forehead to your cheek and jaw, leaning into drop a kiss to your lips.</p><p>He froze, his brain on alert as he registered how hot your face felt.</p><p><em>The faint snoring.</em> <em>Squinting against light. Not waking up sooner than him. Your face pretty much burning to touch.</em></p><p>
  <em>Oh no.</em>
</p><p>“Babygirl… are you feeling sick?” Steve whispered hesitantly, met with a bleary gaze and a pout.</p><p>“Wasn’t feeling great even yesterday evening…” you said, voice hoarse – whether from sleep or the flu Steve had managed to infect you with, he couldn’t tell.</p><p>But he certainly felt guilty, even if it was inevitable, really; with all you sweet care and constant proximity, it was only a matter of time. Not that it made him feel any better.</p><p>“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry-“</p><p>“Not your fault-“</p><p>“Kinda <em>is-“</em></p><p>“Steve dammit!” you hissed, your eyes flying open fully and Steve knew what was coming; still, he grimaced as you coughed. “Shit. I hate flu.”</p><p>“Tell me about it. You think you can eat something?” he fussed, snapping into his nurse mode right away, ready for your roles to reverse.</p><p>You hummed and tried to sit, your gaze falling on the nightstand for the first time. Your expression, having been twisted in a grimace, softened instantly. As you turned to him, he suddenly felt sheepish. Was he acting like a love-sick fool?</p><p>“You made me breakfast to bed?” you cooed, snuggling into the covers before gesturing for him to help you sit up. “You’re the best.”</p><p>“I’ll be better if I make you some tea to go with it… and bring cough sirup… and stuff, yeah?”</p><p>You smiled like a loon – well, you tried, the result kinda faint, a testimony to your exhaustion – and Steve quickly rose to his feet.</p><p>“You’re the best.”</p><p>“Nope, that’s you. Eat your breakfast, babygirl.”</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>Steve could tell you still didn’t feel exactly alright and the idea of eating wasn’t thrilling to you, but the pleaser you were, you tried your best for him to see that you appreciated his effort to make breakfast. When he brought you the tea, the medicine and water to down it, you were hallway through the pancakes, even though you seemed to force yourself into every bite.</p><p>“You don’t have to make yourself sicker just because you feel like you have to eat this, you know,” he hummed nonchalantly, causing you to grimace and take another two bites before sighing and pushing the tray away.</p><p>“It’s really yummy though… I think,” you stated, a wry smile playing in one corner of your lips. “Thank you.”</p><p>And you sounded so honestly grateful, clearly attempting for the smile to look real even with your eyes blazed and your features undeniably displaying tiredness, that Steve had to chuckle as he handed you the pills.</p><p>“Glad you liked it, sweetheart.”</p><p>You went to drop a careful kiss to his cheek when a coughing fit took you by surprise, starling him and resulting in you clutching both your chest and head, wide hurt eyes looking up at him as he smiled, tight-lipped and compassionate; he knew <em>exactly</em> how you felt.</p><p>And you were still kinda adorable, pouting a bit, looking at Steve as if he could save you from the evil flu monster.</p><p>“I <em>hate</em> flu… but I really like you. Thank you for taking care of me,” you said sincerely, emphasizing your point with an obviously unplanned sneeze.</p><p>Steve lips twitched, but so did his heart. His hands went to caress your hair, earning a pleased hum.</p><p>“Just returning the favour.”</p><p>“Uh-huh. Don’t think I was <em>that </em>nice.”</p><p>“You were,” he assured you, feeling need to add a little piece of important information, just to show how much he meant it. “Just made me fall in love with you all over again.”</p><p>“Sweet-talker. I bet that’s all gone now, seeing me about to go through a box of tissues a day,” you chuckled weakly, nearly sinking into the cushions.</p><p>Steve wasn’t sure what was it he was suddenly overcome with; how or in which exact moment it sneaked into his conscience, a crazy insane thought and the untameable feeling in his gut that nudged him to do it.</p><p>To do it right now. To tell you, truly and from the depth of his heart, how much you meant to him. How much he was sure you always would.</p><p>“No, it’s not. I want to take care of you,” he whispered, hesitantly taking a hold of your slightly clammy hands and gently squeezing. You reciprocated the action, even if weakly.</p><p>“I want to take care of you and I want you to take care of me. I want to have you by my side every day, in our home, in our bed,” he continued, for once not talking only about different ways of making you moan his name when mentioning a bed. “I want to kiss you stupid whenever I get the chance, I want to laugh with you when you’re happy and hold you when you feel like crap. I want us to fight the whole world if they tell us that our love is wrong, because I know there’s nothing more right than me loving you and you loving me.”</p><p>The words spilled from his lips without much thinking, just one following other, somehow making sense, he hoped.</p><p>The strange buzz of nerves in his ears was so loud that he barely registered you breathed out his name.</p><p>
  <em>“Steve-“</em>
</p><p>His eyes never left your face, watching it crumble under the weight of his declaration, already glassy eyes turning wetter, breathing ragged almost as much as his was from the rapid fire of words. Your lips parted in beautiful awe, that beautiful awe he had seen before, whenever you seemed to be shocked by how deep his <em>need</em> for you ran.</p><p>There was no questioning what should come next. Only half-aware of doing so, Steve had already prepared the ground.</p><p>“Stay right here,” he blurted out, giving your hands another quick squeeze before straightening rapidly and nearly tripping over his feet as he rushed towards his desk, opening the third drawer. Your voice, laced with both confusion and overwhelming emotion, followed him.</p><p>“I- I’m not going anywhere. What’s-“</p><p>“Sh-shh,” Steve hissed distractedly and took a deep breath as his fingers finally met with the box, gripping it tightly and his palm covering it as he stalked back to the bed, heart hammering in his ribcage.</p><p>This was the right moment, right? It seemed ridiculous, but god, so so <em>right.</em></p><p>“You’re lucid, right?” he asked just to make sure, wavering only for a bit; you might be sick, even have a headache maybe, but you certainly appeared lucid enough a moment ago. But maybe that would be the reason you’d say no?</p><p>Shit, he felt like teenager about to ask his first crush to sit with him at lunch.</p><p>“I—I think? I’m just hella confused…“ you stuttered, causing his already wild heart to skip a beat upon hearing the nerves in your voice.</p><p>Your eyes, wide with confusion and yet slightly narrow because light <em>hurt, </em>watched Steve carefully as he dropped to his knees by your bedside and he didn’t think he ever saw you looking more endearing.</p><p>Steve had never been more certain of the fact that he wanted you to be his wife; and yet, and maybe precisely because of that, a lump formed in his throat. He took a deep calming breath, bracing himself.</p><p><em>“I</em> <em>love you.</em> I love your mind, your body, your soul and everything that’s you and I—I think you’re the most wonderful woman I have ever met and had the luck to fall for. So I…”</p><p>With another heartskip, loud pounding in his head and maybe a tiny bit of a shake to his hands, he rose to only one knee, not missing your expression turning into a picture perfect of shock when he held out the box he had been thinking about for too long.</p><p><em>“Oh my god,</em> Steve-“</p><p>“Please let me do this,” he whispered, barely audible, mostly because while you seemed absolutely <em>stunned,</em> you didn’t look angry or horrified, so he sensed a chance.</p><p>“I’m running a fever, my nose is running too and I’m--- <em>ew</em> all over-“ you protested weakly, a tear actually running down your cheek, but then you chuckled, a hand flying up to cover your mouth and Steve felt his confidence rise.</p><p> “You’re not, and even if you were I wouldn’t care. You’re my everything and wish nothing more than to make you mine officially.” Unable to wait any longer under you attentive and entirely adoring gaze, he opened the box and said your full name, nearly choking on it under the overwhelming joy of the moment – because he already <em>knew</em>. He knew what you were gonna say; you had it written all over you face. “Will you marry me?”</p><p>Steve knew. He was <em>so </em>sure that he knew--- and yet. <em>Yet. </em>As the silence prolonged, lasting seconds, <em>minutes even – hours, </em>it must have been – Steve felt the nervous coil in his gut twist painfully.</p><p>He watched you with torturous anticipation as you were; semi-sat up on a bed, hurting, probably beginning to sweat through your pyjama and drinking chamomile tea to get rid of the bug you had caught from him, and here <em>he</em> was, proposing.</p><p>In sickness and health indeed; and in some absurd way, this all made perfect sense to him… well, it had, a minute ago.</p><p>You looked like a million thoughts were racing through your head, and Steve felt his heart sink to his stomach. What if you truly were thinking he was <em>crazy-</em></p><p>“Yes,” you said at last and Steve released the breath he was holding, endlessly relieved, the heaviness weighting a ton finally falling from his shoulders. <em>Oh Chirst, </em>thank <em>fuck—</em>he really had been getting worried- “Yes, I-“</p><p>Relief blended into delight as he heard you speak the beautiful word again.</p><p><em>Yes. </em>Yes, you wanted to be his wife.</p><p>Yes, you wanted to marry him!!</p><p>An incredulous chuckle spilled from his lips and he tossed the box on the bed, swiftly moving up and grabbing your face to kiss you stupid as he wanted and had said that he always would.</p><p>You made a startled noise, but you giggled too, grasping onto his shoulders and his nape and kissing back with all you got—and then you were pulling away, fighting for breath, because <em>flu, duh,</em> he needed to be careful with you, but-</p><p>You agreed to marry him!</p><p>Keeping you as close as possible while allowing you to breathe, his eyes happily roamed your face, so pretty and adorable and the knowledge of him being able waking up next to <em>that face</em> for the rest of his life sent his heart into frenzy, sparkles of pure joy filling his chest.</p><p>“I love you! Thank you, babygirl,” he exclaimed, kissing you once more, a short but intense encounter of lips that caused you to giggle again—but he didn’t give a shit if he was being ridiculous. Your eyes, even if tired, seemed to glow now, happy twinkles dancing in your irises, telling him you were just as excited and delighted as he was. “Thank you-“</p><p>“You’re <em>so</em> crazy-“ you mumbled, dropping a kiss to his shoulder as you still shook with laughter and Steve simply climbed on the bed fully, wrapping you in his arms tightly.</p><p>He could <em>sing</em> at how you fit into his arms.</p><p>“I am. For you.”</p><p>“I can’t believe you proposed to me while I’m lying sick on a bed,” you mumbled over his shoulder, sounding as if you were complaining a little.</p><p>“In sickness and health?” he offered nervously, holding you tighter just in case you were going to back out now. Which was <em>not </em>an option.</p><p>He had to physically put the ring on your finger. <em>Right now.</em> Then you wouldn’t be able to change your mind.</p><p>In the back of his brain, an annoying voice told him that this was <em>not</em> how it worked, that there was no guarantee. But Steve shushed that voice and withdrew only enough to reach for the box and with a grin so wide he could feel his cheeks hurt from the strain, he took a hold of your left hand, slipping the ring on.</p><p>He didn’t miss the way your breath caught and he didn’t think the flu was to blame for that; the ring looked lovely on your hand. And Steve was a smidge proud of how he managed to make it fit perfectly.</p><p>“Steve… the ring-”</p><p>“You don’t like it?” he worried in an instant as he detected a new emotion in your voice.</p><p>You went to lightly slap his shoulder, rolling your eyes – an action you apparently regretted by the silent groan that followed; just another reminded of your sickness.</p><p>“Shush, you dummy. It’s--- breath-taking, but-“ you bit down on your lower lip, clearly hesitant to speak your mind and Steve didn’t find it at all comforting that you said you <em>did</em> like then ring. Not with the <em>but.</em> You sounded almost guilty, which was… strange. “But must have been so expensive and we still haven’t really-“</p><p>Oh. <em>Oh.</em></p><p>Steve felt his lips spread back into a smile.</p><p>His sweet, sweet girl, responsible and perfect. He hated the reminder of your father’s behaviour, of the fact that you were ashamed on his behalf and felt guilty.</p><p>Steve didn’t want that.</p><p>“If I tell you it <em>wasn’t,</em> will you be mad?” he offered, watching carefully for your reaction, and your thoughtful expression turned into a confused one.</p><p>“Wasn’t?“</p><p>“I just had it cleaned and re-sized.”</p><p>You blinked, eyelids heavy, and tilted your head in bewilderment—melting into a brief panic and Steve realized what must have crossed your mind.</p><p>His stomach clenched in horror at you even considering it. You might have thought it was meant for another woman from his life.</p><p>Which it <em>was, </em>but <em>not</em> the way you thought!</p><p>“It was my ma’s!” he blurted out in panic, causing you to flinch a bit in fright of his suddenly louder voice. Steve shook his head – he was so messing this whole proposal thing up – clearing his throat, he observed your face, now full of emotion he couldn’t read. “…is that okay?”</p><p>There were tears prickling in your eyes, no words leaving your mouth as he had managed to render you speechless and he could punch himself for making you feel whatever you were feeling.</p><p>He had to fix this, <em>fast.</em></p><p>“We can absolutely pick up something else if you don’t like the idea!” he was quick to offer, his heart speeding up when you still didn’t say a word. But you didn’t seem… <em>that mad.</em> What was happening in your head though, that was a mystery to him. “It’s just… she always told me that it was the second most precious thing she had left after dad, right after me, and that she wants me to give it to-- please don’t cry.”</p><p>Yes, he made the tears spill. There were a few rolling down your cheeks and Steve… he was starting to recognize the emotions playing in your expression, but he couldn’t entirely put his finger on it.</p><p>Honestly, he couldn’t tell whether you were so touched by the whole inherited ring gesture or if you were hating him with your very being for ruining some picture-perfect proposal you had been dreaming about since you were five; angry and disappointed that he didn’t even have the decency to buy you your own ring.</p><p>Probably a bit of both.</p><p>“Steve, you romantic <em>idiot, </em>come here,” you choked out, by a miracle not coughing for once and before he could even react and let the relief sink in, you grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled hard.</p><p>You had a surprisingly a lot of strength for someone coming down with a flu – actually, <em>being</em> down with a flu.</p><p>He landed on you, barely catching himself before he could crush you, a surprised laugh spilling from his lips, delight once again lighting up his world.</p><p>“I love you, Steve,” you whispered, pecking his lips, fingers sinking to his hair and that moment, Steve was in heaven. “So much.”</p><p>He grinned wide, wrapping his arms around you and holding you to his chest as tight as he could, feeling both his own heartbeat and yours, tumbling happily and together.</p><p>“And I love you… future Mrs. Rogers.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Not gonna lie. Thought of posting this in four parts of maybe at least two (3 and +1), but then I thought, screw it, let’s post 7,7k words at once. I hope you made it through all of them.</p><p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>May your 2021 be great ♥</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Tied to You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve finally got to ask the question and you said yes. But having been sick, you didn’t really have a chance to celebrate… until now.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>Warnings: nsfw, 18+</b> (if you’re a minor, don’t you dare), light bondage, hints of dom/sub, ‘babygirl’, oral (fem receiving), language (always) and you’ll see the rest, I guess <br/>(if you think it needs any other warning, lemme know)</p>
<p>Oh, there’s a surprise at the end, sort of a bonus if you will ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You were pulled from blissful sleep by a tickly sensation on the crook of your neck, soft and little scratchy.</p>
<p>Your initial startle was soon soothed by a warm touch of lips and you relaxed again, sinking further into the cushions, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you sighed.</p>
<p>Steve’s lips trailed up the side of your neck to your ear, his hand on your belly gently caressing over the fabric of your sleepshirt.</p>
<p>“Mornin’, pretty girl,” he whispered to your ear, voice husky from sleep still and you couldn’t hope to hold the mewl that slipped past your lips at his tone. The warmth of the comforter mingled with the one Steve’s body was radiating; and the one swirling deep in your belly. That was how far <em>that</em> <em>voice</em> affected you. “How ya’ feelin?”</p>
<p>“Uh-huh,” you hummed, nestling further into his embrace and he didn’t hesitate to pull you closer to his chest.</p>
<p>It gave you a perfect opportunity to feel a lot more than Steve’s body heat and your smile widened lazily at the morning occurrence.</p>
<p>“Words,” he muttered, daring fingers slipping under the hem of your top, caressing the bare skin under your navel lovingly.</p>
<p>“Warm. Safe.”</p>
<p>A huff of hot breath tickled your nape when he chuckled at your response. There was something delicious about that sound, something darker than pure amusement. Deft fingers travelled up your front, teasing the underside of your breast and your breath hitched.</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t count on the latter, babygirl,” Steve warned you lowly, unsubtly rutting against you from behind, causing the warmth in your core grown in intensity. “And I meant health-wise.”</p>
<p>You weren’t sure if the choked sound that escaped your lips was due to the cheeky flicker of Steve’s forefinger against your nipple or-</p>
<p>“Too early for big words.“</p>
<p>He stroked the peak firmly the time, causing it to perk up, sending a pleasant jolt to your spine.“Babygirl…”</p>
<p>Quick assessment had you decide that you actually felt… okay. Headache gone completely. You didn’t feel like you were about to sneeze in five seconds… and in ten seconds… and your nose wasn’t running. God bless.</p>
<p>If anything, you were feeling a bit too <em>warm,</em> but you didn’t think it was to be blamed on fever unless the fever was called Steve.</p>
<p>“Fine. I can <em>breathe,”</em> you informed him breathlessly, ironically enough. “Want something, Stevie?”</p>
<p>Rather than replying, he gently squeezed your nipple, his other hand sneaking between your hip and the mattress to toy with the waistband of your shorts. His beard moved to the tricky spot on your neck, sending a shudder through your body, blood in your veins set aflame.</p>
<p>It had been too long. First Steve was sick and then he got <em>you</em> sick—</p>
<p>Hands moving, one went to lavish your other breast with attention as the other slid under your shorts to your thigh, caressing the sensitive skin on its inside, painfully close to your centre, which was already growing slick.</p>
<p>
  <em>Several days too long…</em>
</p>
<p>“Want <em>you,”</em> Steve murmured, teeth grazing your shoulder, hard evidence of his words rutting against the globes of your ass. “So much… <em>saw you…”</em></p>
<p>You tried to roll over, confused at his remark, but he gripped your thigh tight, preventing your from moving.</p>
<p>“Saw me?” you whispered then, rocking your hips to create some friction for him since he was all hands on you while your options were limited.</p>
<p>“Uh-huh… cute white set, all lace, almost see-through,” he continued, one finger reaching your clothed pussy to tap the slit. You could feel him smile against your shoulder when he touched the damp fabric and your thighs jerked in response.</p>
<p>You weren’t ashamed… oh no. You could feel the air crackle with arousal, easily tuned to Steve’s mood. And you were rather horny, who were you kidding, but also intrigued. Was he… sharing a dream of his with you?</p>
<p><em>“…oh?”  </em>you sighed, chasing after the finger that went back to its original position, leaving you wanting more. <em>Smug bastard.</em></p>
<p>“Had such a pretty garter for me too, right here.” He caressed the offending spot, the visual making you gulp; you knew how much he indulged in garters, alright. “Let me pull it down with my teeth once it was over… not in front of everyone, only once the guests left…”</p>
<p>Through the rising fog of arousal, you blinked your eyes open, realization dawning at you.</p>
<p>Oh. <em>White</em> set. Garter and teeth. Guests. <em>Oh.</em></p>
<p>He dreamed of- your left thumb automatically touched your ring finger, reaching the warm metal band there. <em>Your engagement ring.</em> Steve dreamed about your wedding – or maybe rather about what came <em>after.</em></p>
<p>Hands wandering again, he pushed your top up, his mouth, so pleasantly warm, accompanied by the well-loved feeling of his beard on your skin travelled down your spine, and as if on instinct, your back arched to give him better access.</p>
<p>An approving hum vibrated against your lower back, quick fingers tugging down your shorts and you went to kicked them as carefully as you could, Steve’s hands already busy once more, on your lower cheeks, on your thighs.</p>
<p>You swore you must have had a fever again, or maybe he did; his touch <em>burned</em> as he toyed with the thin string of your panties, kicking the already messed up comforter away completely.</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t lemme strip it in front of them,” Steve muttered, and you yelped silently when he unexpectedly rolled you to your back, pressing a kiss to your hip. “No, too shy, my pretty girl, sweet girl…”</p>
<p>You choked on your breath as he nosed at your weeping core, looking up to your face with half-lidded eyes. <em>Jesus,</em> who gave him the right to look so utterly irresistible so early in the morning? Eyes dark with lust, hair mussed in a perfect case of bed-hair--- and when did he lose the <em>t-shirt?</em></p>
<p>Your hands finally came to life, reaching for his dark blond strands. His beard prickled against your most sensitive places as he kissed you over the fabric and blew cold air there right after.</p>
<p>You jolted at the bed, blood hushing in your ears. <em>Christ.</em> Such a cheeky shit. Sweet talker. <em>Dirty talker.</em></p>
<p>“Steve,” you whined and tugged at his hair, a minute from begging him to do more. Ignorant to your unspoken plea, he grabbed your hips to keep you still, pressing another kiss where you needed him most – but with <em>no clothes between you. </em></p>
<p>“But <em>fuck,</em> the things you let me do to you when we were alone…” he continued as if you didn’t say a word.</p>
<p>You knew it was a trap; it was obvious that he was baiting you. He was about to drive you mad, tuning the dirty talk up—and <em>fuck,</em> you were weak for his dirty talk, he knew that. Yet you still asked.</p>
<p>“What—what did I let you-<em>do-“</em> you stuttered when he shifted and laid his forearm on your lower belly, using his free hand to push the panties aside and gave a kitten lick to your clit, causing your pussy to clench on nothing, sending a jolt hot want through your whole body. <em>“Oh god-“</em></p>
<p><em>“Whatever I wanted, babygirl. </em>Said yes to being mine… completely,” he said before delivering a few more tiny licks, making you squirm and uselessly tug at his hair some more.</p>
<p>Could you fight harder? Probably.</p>
<p>Did you want to? Really want to? Oh no. He knew <em>exactly</em> what he was doing and you were together long enough to know he was going to have you seeing stars before you could say ‘Professor Rogers’.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Been so pretty and helpless and mine for taking…”</em>
</p>
<p>Oh. <em>Oh,</em> you were going there.</p>
<p><em>“Yes,”</em> you breathed out before you could even think of it. Steve’s forearm dug into your hips at your swift consent, hungry eyes boring into yours.</p>
<p>“Yeah, babygirl? You’ll let me tie you up a bit? Have that hand with that pretty shiny ring where I can see it the whole time?”</p>
<p>You nodded feverishly, rewarded by his tongue running a solid strip up your slit and a self-satisfied grin radiating excitement. Oh you did not miss the flash in his eyes. He was gonna have you begging for it, you were sure.</p>
<p>But just hinting that a big part of this was his delight at being engaged, celebrating? You would let him tie you up more than <em>a bit.</em></p>
<p>The warmth of his body disappeared for less than a minute as he was back in a record time, a tie in his hand.</p>
<p>“Kinky,” you noted with a considerably less cheek and more desire than you were willing to admit to <em>anyone</em> beside Steve. His eyebrows shot up in challenge, smirk curling his lips.</p>
<p>“I thought that was given. Be a good girl, take off that shirt and put your wrists together for me.”</p>
<p>And you did. The knot he tied was firm, but not painful; you didn’t miss how his gaze flickered to your face to check. He was sweet like that. Kinky, but very sweet, still your Steve. Your <em>fiancé</em>.</p>
<p>“Good girl,” he praised and you nearly came on spot when he kissed you, shamelessly and dirty, firm grip on your jaw, tongue exploring and giving you a taste of yourself. His teeth grazed your lower lip then, pulling at it a bit and you honestly thought you were gonna combust. “So pretty, so giving. Gonna make you feel good... future Mrs.Rogers.”</p>
<p>Alright, alright, that gave you an <em>unfair thrill</em> to hear him say it.</p>
<p>“Gonna eat you up, babygirl.”  </p>
<p>You gulped as he flashed you another sinful smile, cheekily kissed your nose <em>and</em> your ring finger and proceeded to begin the sweetest torture you could imagine.</p>
<p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p>
<p>You forgot how to breathe.</p>
<p>All you had the capacity to do was to whimper a pathetic <em>please, </em>barely audible as it drowned in the faint buzzing you felt in in the marrow of your bones, driving you crazy with need. All you could think of was the vibrations tickling your core, feeding the searing heat in your abdomen, mercilessly pushing you towards your third peak.</p>
<p>First, Steve had you fall apart on his tongue alone.</p>
<p>Second, those skilful fingers played you like he was a musician and you were his favourite instrument.</p>
<p>And then he was gone and you thought he was gonna finally strip completely and <em>fuck you</em> into the mattress, but no. He came back with a toy which you basically forgot you had, because, well, you had the real thing and Steve asked to bring the item to your activities very rarely.</p>
<p>The setting was on low, so torturously low and driving you mad as Steve only dragged it up and down your sli,t barely nudging your opening, but so <em>so</em> sweetly, encouragements and praises whispered in your ears, sloppy kisses dropped to various parts of your body… how could you say no? You might have had a safeword, but why would you use it when Steve was taking such a good care of you?</p>
<p>“Look at me babygirl. Let me see you, one more time,” Steve’s voice seemed to reach your ears from immense distance. Yet, you obeyed, eyelids heavy. Steve’s eyes welcomed you, shining with satisfaction as he watched you tremble on the verge of another orgasm. “So pretty for me. Give it to me.”</p>
<p>You weren’t in control of your own body anymore. You felt the vibration turn up a notch and the toy moving to your clit and you were a goner, eyes falling shut again in bliss – you would swear your vision turned white for several moments, Steve’s mouth swallowing your moans as his body covered yours, removing the device.</p>
<p>You reciprocated the kiss weakly, hips bucking against Steve’s, vaguely aware of his hard, which must have been painful at that point – but at least he was finally naked too. Your hands felt like made of lead as he reached to release them. They landed on his arms on instinct, shaking a bit as you frantically tried to map Steve’s marvellous body, having been missing the opportunity for what felt like forever.</p>
<p>He grunted to your mouth when you stroked his cock, gently swatting your hand away, dropping a kiss to the corner of your mouth.</p>
<p>“You were such a good girl for me,” he mumbled, nibbling on your lower lip, on your jaw. “So pretty for me when you lost it, wish I’ve recorded it. You feelin’ okay, babygirl?”</p>
<p>It felt so surreal to have him talk like that and being turned on just as you came down from the out-of-body experience he gifted you. Even more surreal was his question – as if you could <em>not be</em>.</p>
<p><em>“So okay,</em> Stevie. You have no idea,” you managed to whisper, fingers slipping into his hair to pull him for another kiss. He gave in, greedily taking all you had to offer, hand kneading your breast, brushing an awfully sensitive nipple.</p>
<p>“Can you still take me, sweetheart?”</p>
<p>Your eyes flew open, staring at him at shock. Was he—was he suggesting that after <em>all that,</em> you were gonna leave him aching? Well, not necessarily, there were other ways, but—<em>Jesus, </em>you loved this man. So filthy and yet so sweet. Did you make him up? Was this some ever-lasting dream?</p>
<p>Then again, he kinda had a point when you thought about it.</p>
<p>“Yes. <em>Yes,</em> <em>Jesus,</em> Steve. I’m just not sure I can--eh, you know. Three’s a lot already,” you admitted, slightly ashamed as you stared into his eyes, the blue of his irises practically swallowed by his dilated pupils. You didn’t think you ever came more than three times. Not that anyone ever tried to make you. “But I want you inside me.”</p>
<p>“Don’t wanna hurt you, babygirl.”</p>
<p>Tired smile spreading on your lips at his lingering hesitation, you cradled his face, looking him straight in the eye.</p>
<p>“I trusted you so far-“</p>
<p>“And it means a lot to me-“</p>
<p>“I <em>love</em> you,” you continued, but he interrupted you again, the sweet dork.</p>
<p>“I love you too, so much.“</p>
<p>Oh, the feeling was mutual. But that was not the point at the moment, as sweet as the sentiment was.</p>
<p>“But if you don’t use my cunt to get off right now, I’m gonna-“</p>
<p>The choked sound erupting from his throat was quickly followed by his large hand grabbing your jaw and shutting you up with a brutal kiss, punching the air straight out of your lungs. Somehow, you still found room to grin into it; that was what he got for dating a woman who wrote porn about him before they were even introduced.</p>
<p><em>“Mouthy. Such a bad girl,”</em> he growled against your neck, the swollen head of his cock coating in the generous amount of slick between your legs.</p>
<p>“Am I? Thought I was being a good girl for my future husband… willing, ready for tak-“</p>
<p>He pushed into you in one swift movement and the teasing died in your throat, mouth forming a breathless ‘o’. No matter how many times you were together, he always filled you up <em>so good. </em>And now, not dragging it out and stretching your sensitive walls all at once—yeah, you had to remind yourself to breathe.</p>
<p>Steve too panted above you, getting used to the sensation as he finally slid home and bottomed out.</p>
<p>He recovered quickly; and he didn’t bother with words anymore, his appreciation reduced to grunts and moans as drove into you. His hands slipped under your ass and he angled your hips to his liking, giving a few slow, deliberately deep thrusts. Much to your surprise, you felt the coil in your belly forming again as his tip kissed your cervix.</p>
<p>And then his hands disappeared, from under your body, finding your wrists and pinning them next to your head, making you gap —and he <em>took</em> you. Hard and fast, sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room, his pubic bone hitting your clit as he pistoned into you, causing your body to climb towards your fourth high in a speed of light. His eyes bore into yours and had you had the capacity to think beyond the drag of his thick length along your walls, you’d be touched at the way his eyes flickered to your left hand occasionally.</p>
<p>It hit you without warning; a faint flutter in your core, barely there, but you felt in all the way to your fingertips as you squeezed him, a breathless <em>Steve</em> falling from your lips.</p>
<p><em>“Fuck-- FUCK, baby--- you’re-“ </em> he choked out incoherently, fingers digging into the flesh of your wrists as you milked his cock. And then he was gone, leaving you feeling unfairly empty.</p>
<p>Like a rag doll, still stunned that he actually made you come <em>four times</em> and made your bones feel like turned into jello, he flipped you over to your belly and grabbed your hips, driving home once more, setting a downright <em>punishing</em> pace, going faster than before even if you had thought it wasn’t possible.</p>
<p>The last few thrusts were bordering on painful, your body entirely spent and not able to accommodate him anymore, but the sting was soon soothed by the sensation of his cum painting your walls, a guttural sound of pleasure escaping him. You eased your grip on the sheets, breathless as he drove into you slowly, dragging out his orgasm.</p>
<p>His left hand found yours, fingers interlacing. It was when you realized there were a few tears rolling down your cheeks, but you weren’t hurting – except for in your chest, huge amount of affection for this dirty loveable man swelling near your heart.</p>
<p>He stayed inside you as he softened and he fell to his forearms, sticky and warm mass covering you like a blanket, wet kiss landing on your shoulder. You turned your head to side with a goofy smile, searching his lips and he complied, kissing you gently, all heat gone.</p>
<p>The kiss tasted of salt of your sweat, but you couldn’t care less, actually giggling when you realized what just happened – and the fact you had troubles catching your breath seemed like the most amusing thing in the world to you at the moment.</p>
<p>“What’s funny?” Steve muttered as he nuzzled to your neck, fingers squeezing yours.</p>
<p>You rested your head on one cheek so he could see you grinning. “Nothing. I just really love you, Professor Rogers.”</p>
<p>He groaned, feeling that his cock most definitely twitched at the addressing. “Don’t start, babygirl.”</p>
<p>You giggled again, endorphins overflooding your system. You were just… truly happy. Euphoric. In the arms of a man whom you loved with your whole heart (and <em>body) </em>and you were about to marry him. And he just made you come four times. What was not to love?</p>
<p>You winced when he slipped out, which drew a quick and honest <em>sorry</em> from him and earned you a kiss between your shoulder blades.</p>
<p>“Stay here, sweetheart, I’ll just-“</p>
<p>“Nope, you stay,” you pleaded and made weak grabby hand on him despite the sensation of his seed leaking out of you. You were due to changing the sheets anyway, what more harm could it do? “We <em>both</em> need to clean up. Might as well get the post-orgasmic cuddles before we do.”</p>
<p>Steve chuckled, falling back into bed, pulling you close, chest to chest.</p>
<p>“Is that even a thing?” he teased you.</p>
<p>“You tell me. You were the one who was dropping words like <em>health-wise </em>at like… what is the time anyway?”</p>
<p>“Who cares, it’s Sunday,” Steve muttered, hand sneaking between your intertwined bodies, dipping two fingers into the fluid on your inner thigh, mindful of being gentle when he dragged it up and pushed it back into your pussy, causing your breath to hitch.</p>
<p><em>So fucking filthy</em> he was, your future husband.</p>
<p>“Kinky,” you remarked half-heartedly, nuzzling into his chest, feeling his grin in your hair.</p>
<p>“You love it.”</p>
<p>You hummed in agreement, kissing his collarbone.  “I love <em>you.</em> Which is why I said yes.”</p>
<p>He reached for your jaw to angle your head and catch your lips in a kiss, loving and nothing like the ones he was stealing from you just moments ago. He was grinning like a loon, genuine joy all over his face.</p>
<p>“That you did, babygirl. That you did.”</p>
<p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ bonus ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p>
<p>When you finally emerged from the bed, your stomach was growling, everything was aching – not like flu-aching, a pleasant ache –, you were sticky, but entirely content until a terrible realization hit you.</p>
<p>“Oh my god,” you whined, planting your ass back on the bed.</p>
<p>Steve shot you a look of concern – and amusement – and went to crouch in front of you, his hands engulfing yours. He didn’t forget to indulgingly caress the ring in the process.</p>
<p>“What’s wrong? What hurts, sweetheart?”</p>
<p>“My <em>brain.”</em></p>
<p>“Your brain?” he chuckled curiously and you couldn’t but pout at him. But on the inside, you were barely holding back laughter too, at the ridiculous scene; since you had both headed to the bathroom to clean up, you were still completely naked and you imagined it must have looked like Steve was Adam about to propose to Eve.</p>
<p>“Yes! I go back to school tomorrow? I haven’t told anyone besides Penny!”</p>
<p>“I mean, Bucky knows,” Steve offered with a shrug. “Sam does too… maybe he told Tony?”</p>
<p>Your eyebrow shot up.</p>
<p>“Oh, so all staff knows? Dandy. But I didn’t even tell my parents yet…” you whispered, actually troubled. You had no intention whatsoever to tell you father just so he could call a <em>to-be married whore</em> or something, but maybe he did deserve to know. Your mum certainly did. “Well, my mum at least.”</p>
<p>You expected a cheeky comment. Maybe a comforting touch. But Steve just stared at your collarbone and… <em>blushed,</em> the tips of his ears turning red. You frowned.</p>
<p>“Steve?”</p>
<p>He shifted nervously, gaze flickering to yours before he bit the inside of his cheek. <em>What</em> was going on in his head?</p>
<p>“Eh, I, look, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to…” <em>It’s like pulling teeth, for god’s sake. </em>“She… uhm, she kinda already knows.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, what?” you blurted out and chuckled, because… what? No, she didn’t. How would she- “…Steve?”</p>
<p>There was no denying the intense crimson colour in his cheeks. But at least he looked you in the eye like a man and made a confession.</p>
<p>“I told her. Texted her the same day you said yes, because… eh, she kinda knew I was gonna propose since we met in November, because apparently, I am <em>that obvious,</em> but when she told me I am, she also gave me her blessing, so… yeah. That.“</p>
<p>With every word, your jaw was falling lower and lower, your heartbeat picking up pace. What the <em>hell</em> was he talking about?!</p>
<p>“Whoa, whoa- <em>my mum</em> knew you were gonna propose? And she—oh. <em>Oh.</em> That’s… okay, I think?” you said, uncertainty lacing your voice. It was a lot to process, but… you guessed it wasn’t anything bad.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry I went behind your back, I’m sure you wanted to tell her yourself, but I was just so happy and-“</p>
<p>“Hold on a second!” you blurted out, <em>horrified</em> when everything finally clicked. “So my mum knows we’re engaged for <em>days,”</em> you emphasized, feeling all blood draining from your face. The glare you shot Steve could kill; at least he had the decency to look guilty and wordlessly begged for forgiveness. <em>Damn his puppy eyes!</em> “So she knows I kept it from her for DAYS!”</p>
<p>“I guess?” Steve hummed innocently, slowly rising to his feet and withdrawing as he saw the flames in your eyes.</p>
<p>And oh, he knew why. You grabbed a pillow and hit his bare thigh with it, somehow all furious, horrified, utterly amused and content at the fact that your mum already knew and approved and she really liked Steve and--- but still!</p>
<p>“STEVEN GRANT ROGERS, you little SHIT! She’s never gonna let me live this down!”</p>
<p>“Sorry, babygirl!” Steve just threw over his shoulder as he ran to the bathroom, you fast on his heels. You managed to catch up before he closed the door.</p>
<p>“You better spoil me with a bubble bath, <em>professor Rogers,</em> otherwise the little friend you used to get me off for the third time will replace you for foreseeable future!”</p>
<p>Steve gasped, pretending to be deeply offended. “You don’t mean that!”</p>
<p>“Oh, I do. <em>Try me.”</em></p>
<p>A slow devilish grin spread on his face and he stalked to you, bending to whisper in your ear, already making you feel hot all over <em>again, </em>helpless against his stupid charms<em>.</em></p>
<p>“Aw, babygirl… I’d like to see you try. In fact…” he muttered as he dropped a kiss to your temple, to your cheek, to your jaw, fingers lightly tracing the curve of your hip and up your waist, squeezing as you could just stand there and take it, focusing to breathe. “I’d be right there to watch.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>…can engagement ring be considered a kink? Should I like… tag that? :D </p>
<p>If you went to read this knowing me for a while and didn’t expect it to have at least a little bit of fluff in it, you should know better by now :-*</p>
<p>Please, if you have something really harsh to say, don’t. You have no idea how much I was pep-talking myself into posting this rather than hiding it forever, because I feel like I need a bath in holy water every time I write/post smut. Though I’m kinda proud of the last lines of bonus :D</p>
<p>Thank you for reading♥</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Words Whispered in the Dark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There are things, intimate desires, which people simply don’t want to talk about out loud. Since you prefer writing such things down, it applies twice as much.<br/>Steve is well-aware of the fact that you're writing, acquainted with what the subject usually is. He supported you even – but what he’d think about your newest story… well, you weren’t sure you wanted to know.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For tumblrs Siri’s 5K Soft Dark Challenge (stargazingfangirl18)<br/>Prompt: “Oh, honey, you weren’t supposed to see that.” (Don’t @ me pls for the way I used it.)</p><p><b>Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut,</b> bondage, oral (M rec), consensual sensory deprivation, a bit of praise kink &amp; body worship, ‘babygirl’, fingering, dom/sub undertones &amp; implied age gap &amp; professor-student dynamic &amp; cumplay if you squint, language</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stepping back into your and Steve’s shared bedroom and study room in one, you froze on spot, heart leaping to your throat.</p><p>You were lucky you didn’t drop your coffee and snack upon the sight of him, your fingers gripping the items tighter in surprise instead. But <em>fuck,</em> was it a close call.</p><p>Because few minutes ago, you moved to the kitchen to grab some refreshments for your brain. Relaxed air had settled over your tiny but loving household on a late Sunday morning; Steve was chilling on the bed, while you sat by your desk, laptop in your lap as your fingers danced over the keyboard, putting into words your latest… uhm, story. It was going great too and being able to steal glances at your gorgeous fiancé and muse in one person was a pleasant bonus.</p><p>Steve was, as sheepish as it sometimes made you, well-acquainted with your passion for writing, even rooting for you in his fully-supportive partner mode at all times. He read a few things of yours, both dirty and sweet ones, and he seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself. You weren’t hiding things from him, never had to; and <em>damn,</em> did it feel good for both of you.</p><p>So technically, you <em>knew</em> there was a chance you’d find him behind your desk, eyes skimming over your words since you left the computer opened, just like the document, but… well.</p><p>Nothing could prepare you for the sight on him actually <em>doing it,</em> shoulders tense, Adam’s apple bobbing, breathing shaky as his chest kept rising and falling irregularly.</p><p>Your own breath hitched at the sight, face feeling like set aflame, pulse hammering in your temples.</p><p>Oh no. <em>Oh shit.</em> This wasn’t happening--</p><p>Truth was, you really had no problem sharing your stories with Steve. But this one… well, <em>fuck.</em> You were so fucking <em>screwed.</em></p><p>“Oh---<strong><em>oh honey,”</em></strong> you stuttered, the endearment you rarely used tasting foreign on your tongue. That was how out of it you were upon realizing what was happening here.</p><p>Steve was reading it. Steve was reading <em>that </em>thing. That shameless, entirely dubious thing that--- this was bad. Bad, bad, bad, really fucking <em>bad—</em>he hadn’t run for the hills before, no matter how filthy your stories got, but now he certainly <em>would.</em></p><p>Steve’s head snapped to you at instant, cheeks flushed, eyes wide as he was caught red-handed.</p><p><strong>“You- uh, you weren’t supposed to… see that,”</strong> you stuttered awkwardly, still unable to move an inch.</p><p>Maybe <em>you</em> should run for the hills just so you wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath?</p><p>He didn’t react apart from spinning in the chair to face you, throat working again as his gaze trailed up and down your figure clad in a simple shirt and shorts, fluffy socks to keep your feet warm. Despite your plain outfit, his gaze burned with intensity and dare to say <em>hunger, </em>enough to stir heat in your belly.</p><p>Realizing this might be the last time you’d ever see him (okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration, maybe, but better safe than sorry), you let yourself to take him in as well, again, even if you knew every line of his body, every detail. The cut of his jaw, tendons in his throat tense as well as his shoulders, long fingers griping the armrests, legs slightly parted, accenting the unmistakable growing bulge between them.</p><p>Your heart skipped a startled and excited beat. Oh. <em>Well.</em> At least he liked what he read, you supposed, even if all bells in your head were ringing it alarm, because… <em>that.</em> That kind of story would be a little too much for him, you had thought.</p><p>Was it?</p><p>“Come here,” he whispered, voice hoarse as if he had just woken up, the same voice that caressed your ear as he rutted into you, in the lazy loving which so perfectly fit a morning like this.</p><p>Willing your feet to move, teeth sunk into your lower lip, your fluffy socks padded almost soundlessly against the floor as you obeyed his request.</p><p>He gestured for you to rid yourself of the items in your hands; once again, you obliged.</p><p>The second your hands were free, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you in for a dirty kiss, fingers sinking into your hair to keep you exactly where he wanted you. Sighing in relief, you relaxed into his affection and he wasted no time licking into your mouth, his free hand gripping onto your shirt (<em>his </em>shirt) to drag you into his lap.</p><p>A hazardous position in an office chair, one might think. But you had a lot of practice with your favourite professor.</p><p>Sliding lower in the seat and pulling you up, Steve positioned you to his liking, drawing an appreciative hum from you as his erection rubbed deliciously against your core. You felt him smile into the kiss at the little sound you made, his fingers digging into your flesh in order to press you into him further, rutting against your quickly dampening centre.</p><p>Okay, who were you kidding. You had been writing down your filthy fantasy, you were already soaked, Steve’s movements and apparent enthusiasm just adding to the heat. A whine escaped your lips when he withdrew a fraction, giving you a chance to breathe, hand slipping under your shorts to fondle your lower cheek.</p><p>“Well, I <em>did</em> see it, sweetheart,” Steve said lowly, a little too short of breath for the teasing to work in his favour. Still, your stomach twisted in anticipation of what was to follow. “And I want it.”</p><p>Your eyes snapped open, your lips parting in awe, butterflies erupting in your stomach. You met his eyes, dark pupils having almost swallowed the blue of his irises, gaze intent to prove his point. <em>Fuck.</em> You could come right now if he kept you sitting exactly as you were and watching you like that.</p><p>It was one thing to see him react to your fantasy laid bare for him to see – voluntarily or not – but him admitting it out loud, well that was just a whole new fucking level.</p><p>Now the idea of <em>that </em>actually being doable was planted in our brain and your core clenched at the wistful image you had painted with your words.</p><p>It took you another minute of staring at each other to realize what exactly he was saying without explicitly voicing it.</p><p>“Wait, <em>right now?”</em> you blurted out breathlessly, a single nod and a kiss to the corner of your mouth your only answer.</p><p><em>Fuck. Shit.</em> Okay.</p><p>“A-alright. Let’s do this then,” you stuttered, as thrilled as nervous.</p><p>You didn’t expect that – but you weren’t one to let the opportunity pass. You framed Steve’s face with your palms, his beard rough against your skin, and pressed your lips to his in a hurried kiss, eager to get him where you needed him before he changed his mind. Last grind of your hips, swallowing his content hum, you climbed from his lap to search for something that would hold.</p><p>“Bed. Now.”</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>Your fingers were shaking a bit under his intent gaze as they slipped under his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. Steve was sitting on the bed now, legs parted enough for you to stand between them, watching our every move. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to the way he was looking at you – so tender, with longing and yet with such lust.</p><p>It lit your nerves on fire in the worst and best ways and that was alright with you, as long as you’d get to keep him.</p><p>He smiled at you softly, a little quirk to his eyebrow when he caught you staring and not springing into action just yet.</p><p>“What is it, babygirl?”</p><p>His hands trailing up your waist made it harder to answer.</p><p>You sighed, feeling your earlier confidence wavering. “You’re just so fucking pretty, it’s unreal.”</p><p>His lips curled up in a smirk, but the light in his eyes gave away just how much the compliment meant for him. He pulled you closer, a breathy kiss landing on your clothed stomach.</p><p>“That coming from you… could look at you all day, you must already know that,” he murmured to your shirt, sending a sparkle of courage up your chest.</p><p>You ruffled his hair and pushed him away with a chuckle, mirroring his previous smirk.</p><p>“Well, you <em>won’t, </em>not this time,” you sing-sang cheekily, stepping over his thigh to kneel on the bed behind him, hearing his breath catch, his hand brushing your thigh as you danced out of his reach.</p><p>Placing the scarf over his forehead first, you felt your insides twist in anticipation, fingertips tingling. God, you were really doing this.</p><p>“You ready, Professor Rogers?” you hummed to his ear, marvelling at the effect the title had on him, <em>always, </em>as his hands clenched into fists on his thighs<em>.</em></p><p>“When you say it like that, babygirl? Yes, <em>I am,”</em> he grumbled, causing you to bit down on your lip.</p><p>Making sure you didn’t tie the knot too tight nor too loose, you moved the fabric so it would cover his eyes.</p><p>“Good?”</p><p>“Uh-huh,” was his wordless answer as you let your hands slid to his bare shoulders.</p><p>Steve was undoubtedly a specimen. He was every male-attracted person’s wet dream and <em>you</em> were the one getting your hands on him.  You thanked heaven and hell for it every day. The barely visible lines of his abs, toned chest… but <em>Christ,</em> it was his back that would be your downfall.</p><p>Allowing your hands to wander, your fingertips traced the hard lines of his deltoids, a featherlight touch making him shudder and your mouth to actually salivate. Dropping a kiss between his shoulder blades, you scooted closer so you were literally breathing down his neck, palms sprawled over his triceps, caressing his thick biceps, down his forearms and over his fists and all the way back up.</p><p>It was almost like a beginning of a massage, you supposed, but no one could blame you if you were enjoying the sensation on your palms a little too much. You didn’t get the opportunity to appreciate Steve’s physique like this often enough. So you indulged yourself a few more times, applying more pressure, dropping a kiss to the crook of his neck every once in a while. He winced at the accidental scrape of your nails up his forearm, causing you to halt in your movements.</p><p>“You still good?” you questioned quietly, genuinely worried for a second. You realized he had barely made a sound so far.</p><p>“You could say that, yeah,” he choked out you felt your lips curl up into a smile. Stealing a glance over his shoulder, you took notice of the unmistakable hard outline on his sweatpants and gleefully resumed your movements, nibbling on his shoulder before soothing the skin with a gentle lick. <em>“Babygirl…”</em></p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“You know <em>what.</em> Don’t test me,” he warned, only making you smile wider.</p><p>“Or what?”</p><p>He turned his head to side despite not being able to see you, giving you a perfect view of how tense was his jaw. Oh, you could imagine the stern look he wanted to scold you with.</p><p>“Or you’re not gonna like what’s to come when I put my hands on you,” he threatened, sighing exasperatedly when you replied with a barely audible <em>‘promise?’.</em></p><p>“In all seriousness though… what if you… uhm, couldn’t?” you asked reluctantly, not keen on sharing what you wanted… but wanting it really badly. You were sensing a pattern within yourself, seriously.</p><p>“I don’t follow---  <em>oh,”</em> escaped him soundlessly as your fingers attempted to wrap around his wrists and squeezed to give him a hint. “I don’t know about that, I mean-“</p><p>You felt your hear sink in disappointment, but you tried not to let it show, wondering how to try to convince him one more time. Sure, if it was a no-no, then you wouldn’t force him, he never forced you into anything either and this was about your <em>mutual </em>pleasure, but… now, having him partially at your mercy, the idea nudged insistently on your mind and the image of him with his hands tied above his head while you could do anything you pleased… you might have been soaking the shorts <em>and </em>the sheets at that.</p><p>“We don’t have to, Steve,” you assured him kindly, hundred percent honest despite planning on playing dirty. Your hands moved to his abdomen, caressing their way up his chest, <em>accidently</em> brushing over his left nipple, your lips moving to his ear. “But I’d be so good to you…”</p><p><em>“Babygirl,” </em>he whispered, out of breath as your hand wandered down his happy trail, slipping just under the hem of his sweats, the fingers of your other hand moving to the neglected nipple, this time shamelessly toying with it.</p><p>“I’d be such a good girl for you, Professor Rogers,” you promised, keeping the smile off your voice when you heard him gulp, his cock visibly twitching. “I’d be really, <em>really</em> nice. Don’t you want that, Professor?”</p><p>“Y-yeah, yeah, okay-“</p><p>“Good choice,” you said approvingly, dropping a kiss to his cheek, making him groan and probably regret his decision already. You stood up, quickly looking for something you could use. “Just so you know, I think this is where the same rule applies,” you noted matter-of-factly. “You don’t like something I do, you want me to stop at any point, you <em>tell</em> me. I really want this to be good for you, Steve. So. What’s the word?”</p><p>From the front, you could see the blush that spread over his chest, causing you to bite your lip and nearly stumble over your feet. Good <em>lord</em>, Steve blindfolded, all flushed and waiting for you on the bed so you could do your worst--- now that was a sight to behold.</p><p>“Uhm… Waterloo?”</p><p>You bit your cheek so you wouldn’t laugh at his choice. It was cute and ridiculous... but also kinda hot, because well, Steve’s brains were just another turn-on for you. <em>Of course</em> he would choose something like that. Professor Steven Grant Rogers, history buff, certified hot nerd, the sweetest man to ever walk the Earth.</p><p>You pressed your lips together to prevent yourself from smiling too wide. You didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like he could see you.</p><p>“Okay. Waterloo it is,” you said, swiftly moving to the closet when another idea popped in your head.</p><p>Slipping into a new outfit before heading back, you were rather satisfied with yourself as you grabbed the two ties you found prior. Not that it would actually hold him – it was about the idea.</p><p>“You’re taking a bit long, babygirl…”</p><p>“And? You mind?” you teased him, stopping to stand in front of him. “Have some… pressing issues?”</p><p>“Keep it up, babygirl, see what happens once this is over,” he bit back, only making you chuckle at the perfect pass.</p><p>“I think there’s something else that’s <em>up</em>--- sorry, sorry,“ you mumbled when his hand landed blindly on your thigh.</p><p>His brows furrowed when he felt the difference.</p><p>“You changed.”</p><p>“Uh-huh.”</p><p>His hand trailed up curiously, right under your miniskirt and you let him… just until air got stuck in his throat upon finding you with nothing but the generous amount of slick covering your core.</p><p>
  <em>“Fuck-“</em>
</p><p>“Nope,” you replied cheekily, even if the flicker of his finger caused you to shudder, his touch like liquid fire at this point.</p><p><em>Fuck, </em>you wanted him. You wanted him right now and you wanted him to take you in every way he wanted… but the idea of him at your mercy was appealing enough for you to control yourself.</p><p>You grasped his wrist and shoved it away; he allowed it, but not without whining pitifully.</p><p>“Lie down, Steve, please. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”</p><p>“You better,” he grunted, unwillingly moving up the bed, obediently spreading out on the sheets and letting you guide his arms up as you climbed over him and tied his wrists together.</p><p>“Not too tight?”</p><p>He shook his head, a smirk crossing over his lips. You rolled your eyes at the double meaning, but you guessed it served you right.</p><p>Oh, but would you wipe that smirk off…</p><p>Securing the knot, you shifted to be face to face with him, lips hovering just above his mouth, breathing the same air and hoping to begin the sweet torture.</p><p>You had to admire his patience; despite definitely noticing your positions, Steve didn’t move an inch. It was up to you then – and the premise sent another thrill through your veins. Oh, you’d break him in the most delicious ways.</p><p>As soon as you erased the distance, his lips sunk into yours hungrily, wet and soft in the contrast to his beard, the sensation you adored, having you squirming above him until you remembered again that <em>you</em> were the one in control.</p><p>You kissed him with vigour, licking into his mouth, one hand still where his were joined, the other pressing against his chest. Your tongue met his, revelling at his taste and at another of his tries to dominate the kiss, to set things as they usually were. But as much as you loved it when he took charge… not today.</p><p>Parting abruptly, his lips following on instinct, you couldn’t but grin to yourself. Kissed his fingertips, you lingered at the one still glistening with your juices. You took it to your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and sucking lightly, feeling Steve’s heart speed up under your palm like crazy.</p><p>When you lightly grazed the skin with your teeth, his groan and the way his hips thrusted upward was the best reward you could get.</p><p>Kissing a trail down his arm – because goddammit you <em>loved</em> his arms – you hummed to yourself contentedly whenever you could feel the slightest shift of his body under yours and greedy for more contact, you allowed yourself to put most of your weight fully on him.</p><p>The choked sound it elicited from him startled you at first – until you realized that with your skirt hiked up, you weren’t the only one enjoying the skin-on-skin contact, your slick coating Steve’s lower stomach just above his sweats. Hopefully it was giving him ideas – it was certainly was to you.</p><p>Rustle of fabric, ragged breaths, occasional smacking noise when you moved up or left a small hickey on his shoulder and above his collarbone. Your fingers toyed gently with his nipples as you kissed his sternum before replacing your hands with your mouth once more, sucking, drawing a quiet whimper from him.</p><p><em>Fuck</em> couldn’t get enough of the noises he was making. The pretty breathless moans of your name, the curses slipping from his lips… it was like music, but on a desperately low volume.</p><p>“What is it you always tell me?” you teased, lamely covering for the fact that your own arousal was nearly uncontainable. Shit, you loved how sensitive his nipples were… how much more sensitive he must have been now, no visual, laser focused on every touch instead? You wanted more… so much more. “Don’t hold these pretty sounds from me?”</p><p>Steve gritted his teeth at the remark, but as soon as you positioned your heat directly over his hard length and rolled your hips, he sang for you beautifully.</p><p>
  <em>“Shit, sweetheart-“</em>
</p><p>The rush of confidence, the feeling of power was almost overwhelming – the image of him, lips parted in mute pleasure, certainly was. You were a little too close to climbing your own peak a little too quickly to your liking.</p><p>Sitting up straight, you undulated your hips few times, hands tracing patterns over Steve’s rapidly rising chest and abs. Much to his obvious dislike, you all too soon slid lower, your mouth making its way down his abdomen and then you finally, <em>finally</em> rid him of his sweatpants and boxers in one go.</p><p>His cock sprang free, hard and red at the tip, leaking just enough to cause your mouth to water and your thighs to rub together to give yourself some of the friction you craved so much.</p><p>Hands planted on his hips, you kissed along his hip bones and the apex of his thighs, taking your sweet time exploring everything you could – except for where you suspected he wanted you the most. You had to grin for yourself when you cupped his balls, causing him to hiss in relief, the muscles of his abdomen and legs clenching beautifully.</p><p>“Talk to me, Steve,” you hummed as you replaced your hand with your tongue, licking a stripe towards his base.</p><p>
  <em>“Christ- don’t stop--“</em>
</p><p>“Eloquent as always, <em>Professor,”</em> you retreated, causing him to let out a growly sound you never heard before and had your core tingle, cunt feeling awfully empty.</p><p><em>Christ</em> was right, alright. Seeing his chest heaving, fingers twitching as if he wanted nothing but to tug at your hair to keep you there and stuff your mouth full of his cock---  if you didn’t get some soon, you might actually combust.</p><p>So you put your mouth back to work on his sack again, fingers barely curling around the base of his cock, giving a first experimental stroke before you squeezed a bit tighter – and then swiftly moved away, his hips following on instinct in, craving more.</p><p><em>“For fuck’s ---</em> how did I ever think you were sweet and nice?” he complained huskily, impatience lacing his voice.</p><p>You chuckled, but heard him out, leaving his balls in order to give more attention to his impressive and possibly painfully hard length.</p><p>“Beats me,” you retorted, hands busy with gentle strokes to his shaft. “I mean, we literally got together thanks to you finding out I wrote about sucking and riding your dick right in your office, Professor Rogers.”</p><p>“You little-“</p><p>His protests died in his throat, features twisting in wordless pleasure when you finally wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, delivering a few kitten licks to the tip. His taste exploded on your tongue, eliciting a content hum which he certainly felt too, because a jerk of his hips pushed him deeper to your mouth.</p><p>Slowly swallowing as much as you could without having him hit the back of your throat, you curled your hand tighter around the base and started bobbing your head.   </p><p>A string of breathless profanities left his mouth whenever you squeezed, only getting filthier when you hollowed your cheeks. It was all encouragement you needed to take him deeper, giving him a taste of heaven as his tip brushed the back of your throat.</p><p>“Babygirl, fuck, <em>fuck</em>, yeah--- <em>just like that…”</em></p><p>Your own arousal became unbearable, a surge of hot need squeezing your insides at Steve’s praise. Slipping a hand under your skirt, you sighed in relief when your fingers caressed your lower lips, hips bucking forward in desperate need of <em>more</em>.</p><p>Your predicament was impossible to solve – you wanted him inside you already, <em>so badly, </em>but <em>fuck</em> the picture Steve made, even if blurry as tears prickled your eyes whenever he hit the back of your throat, was just too divine.</p><p>Lips crimson with how he kept biting at them to keep at least a little quiet, hair sticking to his forehead, muscles drawn tight like strings as he kept clenching them both unwittingly and consciously in hope to get you where he wanted you and the fresh taste of him whenever you did something he particularly liked--- you simply <em>had</em> to feast your eyes on him. And he couldn’t do the same… or take charge for that matter.</p><p>
  <em>So fucking pretty like this.</em>
</p><p>And you were the only one seeing him like that, tied up, helpless against the assault on his senses sans vision. He gave himself up to you like that, <em>willingly.</em> The thought warmed you up inside out, enough to drive you nearly as crazy as if you were in his place.</p><p>Wasting no time with preparation you didn’t need, you pushed two fingers into your core at once, whimpering around Steve’s cock when you did. Your whole body relaxed, the pent-up desire easing a little and yet burning hotter. You pumped your fingers slowly, the sensation so blissful you had to remind yourself to keep working on Steve too.</p><p>Still, your actions didn’t go unnoticed.</p><p>“Are you—are you touching yourself, babygirl?” he whispered, tongue peeking out to wet his lips.</p><p>It took you a second to swallow the baseless embarrassment and literally <em>swallow, </em>causing Steve to let out a moan so wrecked and pretty you felt your pussy clamp around your fingers.</p><p>Hoping your words would come out less shy than you felt when saying them, you released Steve’s length with a wet pop to tease him some more.</p><p>“Yeah, I am…. Why? You want a taste?” you asked sweetly, clearing your throat that suddenly felt so empty.</p><p>The guttural moan that erupted in Steve’s chest was music to your ears, his cock twitching and glistening with fresh beads of precum a sight to behold.</p><p>“Yeah, babygirl… give it to me,” he choked out and the genuine desire in his voice was like a punch to your solar plexus. Your walls clenched around your fingers, the familiar coil in your abdomen tightening.</p><p>Swallowing a pitiful sigh at the loss, you stretched over the warm length of Steve’s body, gulping when his own parted in invitation.</p><p>
  <em>Jesus fucking Christ.</em>
</p><p>Reluctantly, you let the fingers sticky with your juices brush over Steve’s lips, gasping when his tongue instantly slid out to lick at the essence eagerly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.</p><p>“Fuck, always so sweet, babygirl…” he muttered, your breath stuck in your throat when his mouth blindly chased after your fingers before you could withdraw your hand.</p><p><em>“Oh my god-“</em> you choked out, mesmerized, your pussy clamping around nothing.</p><p>He sucked greedily, the image alone causing your hips to rut against his, your clit catching against his rock-hard shaft. Your eyes fluttered close in bliss, stars exploding behind your eyelids.</p><p>Unwittingly, you worked your hips faster, riding Steve’s thick cock even without having him inside. The friction, the soaked fabric of your skirt brushing against your clit, the sensation of Steve’s tongue lapping at your fingers as if he had his mouth on your pussy instead--- you felt the coil in your belly snap, the world turning white before you knew how.</p><p>You came with a broken cry, blissed out and shocked at the sudden release, but riding your pleasure out on instinct.</p><p>Grazing your fingers with his teeth as he let go, Steve spoke words so filthy our head spun.</p><p>“That’s it, babygirl. <em>Fuck.</em> Look how little my girl needed to come all over my cock. Using me so shamelessly.  You must have really wanted it, didn’t you…” he said, voice hoarse with a tint of smugness as you came back from your high, the dirty talk only already riling you up again.</p><p>You had no idea what just happened, but you had a feeling Steve immensely enjoyed it as he somehow got the upper hand on you despite being the one tied up.</p><p>For someone who was supposed to have all blood out of his brain and have it in his dick instead, he was way too smug… but you’d reverse it again. He had no idea what was about to hit him.</p><p>Stealing a kiss to taste ourself on his tongue, your fingers went to remove the blindfold.</p><p>Your professor was, in certain aspects, still just a simple guy – he liked a good visual. It was silly of you to rid him of it in the first place, no matter how much fun you had with it.</p><p>Steve blinked in surprise, squinting against the sudden light, while you slipped out of your bralette, leaving you in nothing but your very schoolgirl-like mini skirt. You smiled at him sweetly, kissing his mouth once more, thumb softly brushing his lips as you towered over him, <em>nearly</em> giving him a view of what was under the fabric.</p><p>“I always want you,” you whispered with a smile, your hand cupping your breast, gently tweaking your nipple, his gaze following the movement as his fingers twitched. You bit the inside of your cheek, hand slowly trailing down. “Want you to touch me, everywhere. Always so wet and ready for you…”</p><p>Dark eyes watched you as you slipped your fingers under the waist of the skirt, a tiny mewl escaping you when the pad of your fingers bumped into your clit.</p><p>You would have felt stupid trying to give him a show after you came after almost nothing, but the warning growl of your name once again assured you that <em>unsexy</em> was the last thing that came to Steve’s mind when looking at you. It warmed both your belly and your heart. You almost felt regretful for a moment that you were still keeping him hanging, neglecting his no doubt aching cock, but he thought he had the upper hand here.</p><p>He was wrong.</p><p>“Always thinking of you… even when I’m alone, always thinking about <em>your </em>fingers, stretching me so good, about <em>you</em> fucking me, so hard till I’m screaming your name,” you continued in hushed voice, revelling at how tight his jaw set, eyes narrowed, breathing once again picking up.</p><p>“Babygirl—”</p><p>“Oops, sorry,” you chipped, pecking his lips as you withdrew your hand, quickly drawing a trail of kisses down his chest and abdomen, unable to resist a lick here and there where the line of his muscles looked particularly tasty. “Just thought you’d like to see my mouth on you. You like to watch, Professor Rogers, no?”</p><p>He never got a chance to answer as you guided him to your mouth again, holding his gaze as he indeed watched, eyebrows furrowing, each breath hitching, soon chanting your name. You caressed his balls as well, tongue tracing the vein on the underside of his length, your other hand firmly around his base.</p><p>You were the first to avert his gaze as your eyes fluttered close so you could fully focus on your task, relaxing your throat.</p><p>“Babygirl--- <em>fuck </em>me<em>-- I’m gonna-“</em></p><p>You eased up a bit, earning a frustrated growl, the corners of your lips rising a bit as you imagined the ugly glare he must have shot you.</p><p>Thinking about it, closing your eyes was a mistake.</p><p>You never saw it coming as a hand suddenly sunk into your hair, yanking you up face to face with him, alarmed eyes staring into black ones as his pupils nearly swallowed all the blue or his irises.</p><p>He had slipped out of the poorly tied bonds, clearly fed up with your shenanigans.</p><p><em>Ah-oh,</em> sounded in the back of your mind.</p><p>Another part of you didn’t fail to notice that despite the swift movement and calling an end to your games, Steve’s fingers were careful not to pull too harshly, making sure he was cradling your head safely. Same when he rolled you over, trapping you under the hard lines of muscle you had been tasting a moment ago, protective cage of his arms around your head.</p><p>If you weren’t so startled, you would have swooned.</p><p>You never got the chance, because any possible sound was muffled by his mouth crashing into yours, hand slipping from your nape to your throat to keep you in place with a wordless warning, hips pressed to yours just in case you would want to escape.</p><p>You would never. Even if you had a hunch Steve was about to ruin you in a way that would have you feel it for days.</p><p>Having enough of your mouth for the moment, giving you a chance to gasp for air, he stared at you smugly, one corner of his perfectly red lips raised in a smirk.</p><p>“Wicked little thing, aren’t you?” he grunted, thumb caressing the hollow of your throat softly, causing you to gulp.</p><p>You summoned your best innocent look, doe-like eyes that usually worked. “S-sorry?”</p><p>A flicker of a smile as he forced his knee between your thighs, instantly pressing against your still sensitive core.</p><p>“I don’t think you are, babygirl,” he huffed, nosing the crook of your neck, biting down sharper than you expected, a yelp erupting from your throat. He soothed in with the pad of his thumb, smiling wide, something soft in his eyes when he looked at you again. You were so fucking baffled at what that meant. ”That perfect filthy mind of yours… and you still get a bit shy, huh?”</p><p>“W-what?”</p><p>“You know what I think, babygirl?” he whispered intimately, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “I think that you left the document opened on purpose.”</p><p>Your rapidly beating heart stopped in your chest, wind knocked out of you completely.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p><p>You were so busted.</p><p>Steve had read you like a book wide open--- because of course he did.</p><p>Yes, there had been a great part of you who wished for him to see it, hoping in this exact outcome; there had been an equally great part dreading what he would think about you. Writing the story down, you were thinking a bit more with your pussy than your brain though, so you decided to leave it for Steve to read. If he went for it, maybe you’d get something from it. If he didn’t, you’d move on. No harm no fool, right?</p><p>Right. <em>No.</em></p><p>Now he did know and saw right through your little trick. And damn, did he look proud of himself for figuring it out. You were in so much trouble.</p><p>Somehow, you were as horrified as excited.</p><p>Steve chuckled as you swallowed against your suddenly dry throat, eyes no doubt wide as saucers.</p><p>“Oh, you did. Too shy to ask for it, leaving that to me instead. My sneaky, needy girl,” he muttered, fondness and humour with a dark lilt in his voice.</p><p>“I—I didn’t know how-“ you stuttered, feeling your face burning in embarrassment at his tone, just a smidge patronizing.</p><p>You averted his gaze, a vain attempt really, knowing he wouldn’t let you. Slipping two fingers under your chin, he guided you to face him again.</p><p>“Didn’t know how… hmm… so you thought you’d play me? That’s really naughty, sweetheart.”</p><p>“I’m sorry… <em>Professor Rogers,”</em> you added quickly in hopes to mollify him, indeed earning a sweet kiss.</p><p>“Oh, it’s okay, babygirl. You know why?” he tested you and you could only shake your head lightly, <em>guessing</em> at best what kind of revenge awaited you. “Because you’re my good girl and you’ll let me settle the score. I’ll play with <em>you</em> now. It’s only fair, no?”</p><p>
  <em>Oh fuck, here it came.</em>
</p><p>For a brief second, his lust-filled eyes appeared startingly clear and sober, boring into yours with a serious question.</p><p><em>It’s only fair, no? </em>he had said.</p><p><em>It’s alright with you if the roles reverse, right? </em>was what he was truly asking, checking, always checking if you were okay, just like you had been checking with him.</p><p>Because sex was fun, but only if all parties were on board.</p><p>Because Steve was sweet, considerate, soft and loving and he was everything you ever looked for in a man and more. You trusted him. You always did and you trusted him now – he would make you feel so <em>so good</em>. It was never really a question.</p><p>“Y—yes, it is.”</p><p>“Good girl,” he praised you, causing your core to weep. And he knew it, oh did he know and shamelessly used it against you... a little payback to all the professor you’d been throwing around. “Close your eyes.”</p><p>And you did. The blindfold came first, then hands, his fingers skimming over your forearms teasingly, feather-light touch on your sensitive skin, before he finally brought them up and tied them together.</p><p>“You ready, sweetheart?”</p><p>No, you were absolutely <em>not</em> ready, but your body was buzzing with desire again at that point, so you breathed a soft <em>yes</em>. And maybe, just maybe… no matter how you had enjoyed driving him crazy, cheeky and full of feeling of power, this felt like <em>home.</em> Because you trusted him – and so you gave yourself to him wholly.</p><p>He hummed in contentment as you confirmed, causing you shiver as he nosed the skin under your ear. “Good. Because I’m going to wreck you for that little stunt of yours.”</p><p>His words tickled the sensitive skin and <em>shit,</em> <em>okay,</em> your nerve endings were tingling, the sensation amplified tenfold with your eyes covered. Steve really <em>was</em> going to wreck you.</p><p>Mouth moving to your breast, he took the nipple in his mouth, shifting so the head of his cock nudged at your weeping opening, pushing just a bit with a promise of a delicious stretch, almost, <em>almost there.</em></p><p><em>“Please,”</em> was all you managed to breathe out, growing impatient, hissing when gave a playful bite to the underside of your breast, sending a surge of arousal through your veins. You back arched, a mewl escaping your when Steve moved his hips away completely, denying you.</p><p>“And you’re gonna take it, aren’t you?” he muttered to your skin, lips trailing lower and lower, warm and soft, beard leaving behind a delicious burn.</p><p>“Y- yes.”</p><p>“Good girl. And what else are you going to do? Tell me,” he encouraged you, large palms pushing your thighs apart so he could fit the insanely broad shoulders between them.</p><p>Mind foggy with need, senses overwhelmed, you still had enough wits to understand what he wanted to hear.</p><p>“Thank you,” you breathed out.</p><p>“Damn straight.” His words were a damp hot blow of air against your mound, causing your hips to jolt as if your body was begging to be taken apart by him already – blissfully aware of how he would put it back together again.</p><p>And with an inevitable scratch to your lower lips and a kitten lick to your swollen bud for starters, Steve did.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I sincerely apologize for twisting the prompt and not even being able to write a soft enough fic the one time I’m supposed to. But I hope you enjoyed :D I mean, if you made it to the end…</p><p>Thank you for reading :-*</p><p>P.S. Fic loosely relates to one of tumblr reblogs of this series: “You know one good thing about being an erotic writer is - you don’t have to talk about your embarrassing kinks. You want to tie your boyfriend up? You just email him a story about it 'subtly’ hinting at it.” Close enough?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Word Is We Might Work It Out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You said yes to Professor Rogers – Steve – taking you out for ‘coffee’. Ball’s in your court – and you decide to make your move. A date, maybe first of many, maybe not. A date with the gorgeous professor who happened to read your erotica about him. What could possibly go wrong? </p><p>A bit of a flashback. <b>Time-line-wise, this one-shot fits in after chapter four.</b> Will more to the proper place among the chapter in about a week.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>Warnings:</b> alcohol consumption, professor-student relationship and unspecified age gap, use of endearment 'babygirl' but no daddy kind, language, lots of fluff</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You lasted one day. One full day since the encounter in the office, since Professor Rogers admitted he would like to take you out for coffee or something similar. Since you two exchanged numbers.</p><p>It took you twenty-four hours – maybe less – to decide that <em>so what</em> if that might be a bad idea. It was <em>not</em> against the university rules and Professor Steve Rogers was a fucking specimen who also seemed to be a genuinely nice human being and if you allowed yourself to play chicken just because something only <em>might</em> go wrong in the future, you’d be an idiot.</p><p>Penny, your roomie, wholeheartedly agreed. She actually punched the air in victory as you were nursing a greasy lunch due to the wild-ish celebration of the end of the semester together the night prior and you just said to the void: “You know what, screw it. I’m gonna go for it.”</p><p>You didn’t even have to say what you were talking about – Professor Rogers had been <em>the</em> <em>topic</em> ever since the faithful Monday.</p><p>So you texted him that if the offer still stood, you’d like to meet up on Friday evening. Was he free?</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Hey, Y/N :) Thank you for reaching out. Friday sounds great. Do you have anything specific in mind?</em>
  </strong>
</p><p><em>“Dude.</em> He’s such a cutie. Who even texts like that?” Penny chuckled, a wide grin on her face as you couldn’t but read the text out loud.</p><p><em>“I texted</em> him like that.”</p><p>“Touché. Because you want to impress mister ‘hot as fuck intellectual’ there.”</p><p>You just rolled your eyes, neither confirming nor denying. Mostly because Penny was right. But he was the first to use an emoji and… yeah, cutie indeed.</p><p>
  <em>Well, I never say no to dinner and I’m down for almost anything-</em>
</p><p>“I bet you are,” Penny hummed to your ear and you swung after her blindly and thought of a better phrasing.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Well, I never say no to a dinner and I’m not picky. You choose. Seven-ish sounds good?</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>“Spoilsport.”</p><p><em>“Stop</em> reading over my shoulder!” you chuckled and bit your lip as the answer came almost immediately.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Seven is alright. I’ll think of something to treat a girl right ;)</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Your stomach made a small somersault, your face instantly radiating heat at the possible innuendo. The phone vibrated again before you could fully process the image your mind painted of him actually saying it in his gentle timbre.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Just so we’re clear, what is the nature of the dinner? It can be whatever you feel comfortable with.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Your heart leaped into your throat, hammering wildly.</p><p>That was the question, wasn’t it? Since you texted him, you made <em>one</em> thing clear with yourself. If you were doing this, it was going to be a date. You wouldn’t be doing things by halves.</p><p>Penny next to you made a noise that sounded as something between an aww and her gagging on nothing. “He’s disgustingly considerate for a man his age planning on going out with a girl your age.”</p><p>“He’s not <em>that</em> much older,” you protested instantly, frowning. He wasn’t. She <em>knew </em>that; you had both done your research. “And I think it’s amazing.”</p><p>You caught Penny’s smile from the corner of your eye as you typed.</p><p>“Well, it is kinda sweet. And I know he’s not, I’m messing with you. It’s just-- DON’T SEND HIM THAT!”</p><p>“Why?” you questioned, looking at her quizzically and totally clicking on <em>send</em> on purpose at the same time.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>I’d be comfortable with a date if you are.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>“It’s so lame. Of course he’s comfortable with a date, he suggested it. <em>Duh.”</em></p><p>The reply came <em>way</em> too fast and Penny chuckled behind you as your jaw went slack.</p><p>“You know what? Don’t mind me. Good job. Keep it up,” Penny patted your shoulder as you stared at the screen where Professor Steven Grant Rogers just texted you a damn <em>heart.</em></p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>It’s a date &lt;3</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>It was a date indeed.</p><p>Steve texted you an address on Friday morning (along with an adorable <em>good morning :) ), </em>apologizing that he couldn’t pick you up, making sure you’d be alright getting there on your own. You found it absolutely sweet, considerate and<em> smart</em>. You suspected that his ‘inability’ to pick you up had something to do with the fact that you lived at the dorms and if he showed up there, it would be trending in the university chit-chat room within five minutes.</p><p>You spent a better part of the Friday afternoon researching the place and the weather forecast so you could dress accordingly and getting ready.</p><p>You were <em>not</em> ready for a date with Steve Rogers however; your nerves were a mess and nothing could <em>ever</em> prepare you for when he showed up perfectly on time in front of the restaurant---- <em>wearing a suit </em>no less.</p><p>How were you supposed to function when he was wearing such elegant clothing, a suit he filled up so fucking well?! And he looked just as breath-taking as always, stupidly perfect beard and slightly tousled hair you just wanted to run your fingers through and his smile was so gorgeous and--- <em>Jesus Fucking Christ, </em>the <em>suit-</em> how could you even put words together when looking at him-</p><p>“Wow, I feel so underdressed now.”</p><p>Clearly, you could speak just fine, only you lost your brain-to-mouth filter. Also, your mouth might have started watering and your heart was pounding like crazy. You would <em>not</em> survive tonight.</p><p>But, you also had a point. The restaurant was supposed to be a nice place, but relatively plain. And he showed up in amazingly fitting dress pants, white shirt, a tie and a suit jacket. So yes, you did feel underdressed.</p><p>“Oh no, no! You’re not,” he rushed to reassure you, eyeing your semi-leisure white dress with burgundy flowers with an attentive gaze that had you shifting your weight nervously. “I’m overdressed if anything. Sticking out like a sore thumb, I’m sorry.”</p><p><em>You could always just strip the suit jacket,</em> was your first thought, but luckily for you, this time you managed to contain the words before they got out to the open.</p><p>“You’re fine,” you said instead, not knowing how else to react; needless to say you were grateful for the smile he gave you despite the double meaning.</p><p>Yes, he was <em>fine </em>indeed. <em>Always. </em>It was unfair, really.</p><p>“Thanks. You too. In fact, you look beautiful.”</p><p>Your heart stopped in your chest, your mind suddenly racing a mile per minute.</p><p>It was ridiculous. It was just a <em>word</em>. But for one, it was spoken so kindly and genuinely you couldn’t but think he meant it, for two, it was Professor Steve Rogers who told you that and--- <em>beautiful. </em></p><p>You couldn’t remember a guy ever calling you beautiful.</p><p>Cute? Sure. Pretty? Maybe. Hot? Might have happened once or twice . But <em>beautiful?</em></p><p>You might actually swoon.</p><p>And you were so lost in your head that you couldn’t but silently stare at the lethally handsome man in front of you and then it again registered in your brain that this was your fucking <em>crush</em> speaking to you and he was on a <em>date</em> with you and he had read your <em>erotica</em>, one that was about <em>him</em> no less-</p><p>Your face was set aflame in an instant and you… you couldn’t let out a word.</p><p>“It everything okay? Did I… did I say something wrong?” Steve asked hesitantly, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows and it reminded you of all the times you had seen him wearing such thoughtful expression in the <em>two classes</em> he taught instead of Professor Barnes and-</p><p>You were screwed.</p><p>Tonight was going to be a disaster.</p><p>“No, uhm, no, sorry--- maybe we should go inside or-“ you muttered, lightly gesturing towards the door and could you get <em>any more awkward?</em></p><p>“Yeah, sure, sounds good.”</p><p>He let you walk in first like a real gentleman, the lightest skim of his fingers on your lower back, which caused your heartbeat to skyrocket; and only when the hostess seated you, you realized you never accepted his kind compliment.</p><p>It was too late for that now, you assumed, so you sipped at the still water which waited at each table, and repeated like a mantra to yourself that you needed to get your shit together otherwise you’d ruin your shot before the night even started.</p><p>But clearly, you succeeded at that already.</p><p>Whatever awkward aura you had around yourself, it seemed to extend now to him too – he shifted slightly in his seat (he had pulled out your chair for you before, because of course he had), his shoulders stiff. Despite that, he smiled at you over the menu.</p><p>“So… all exams worked out? Enjoying the freedom?” he asked casually.</p><p>“Oh, yes. Yeah.”</p><p>“Congratulations.”</p><p>“Thanks,” you uttered with a forced smile, your stomach twisted unpleasantly. </p><p>For some reason, you felt like you were having a lame attempt at small talk with a professor, which you <em>were,</em> but it wasn’t supposed to be like that.</p><p>Not tonight. Not on a <em>date.</em></p><p>What were you even doing here? What were you playing at? Professor Steve Rogers was entirely out of your league, gorgeous, funny, kind and smart and here you were, barely making conversation.</p><p>It was pathetic really. It was embarrassing for both of you.</p><p>“You up to anything fun?” he queried, the question less enthusiastic than the one before. He was already growing tired of making your uncooperative brain work at least a bit, it was obvious.</p><p>Your gulped as the memory of last night popped in your head – staying in, quiet evening, in a mood for some dirty writing--- oh <em>bless,</em> another reminder of why this dinner was and <em>should be</em> really weird.</p><p>Steve read your smutty story. The one about <em>him.</em></p><p>“Nothing special,” you squealed silently, earning a plain nod. “Eh, we went out with Penny, my roommate and best friend in one person. But mostly I just stayed in and--- caught up on sleeping.”</p><p>“I know what that’s like,” Steve hummed, clearly as grateful as you were when the waiter appeared by your table to take your orders.</p><p>Silence stretched as the man left, your hand beginning to fiddle with the neatly folded napkin on the table, lump growing in your throat due to your nerves.</p><p>“What about you? Anything… fun?” you asked reluctantly, noticing a brief smile passing Steve’s lips. Pretty, sinfully <em>pretty</em> lips. Perfect. Untouchable for mere mortals like you.</p><p>“Oh, not much. Few exam sittings, faculty meetings – we had one now, hence the suit-“</p><p>“You came here right from school?” you blurted out, startled – and clearly surprising him with your rudeness. “Sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it. Yes, I did. We have a meeting every last Friday of the month.”</p><p>“Oh my god, you must be so tired,” you sympathized with him quietly, the uneasy feeling in your stomach only growing. He came here straight from work and for <em>this?</em> “Why didn’t you say something? We could have postponed or something.”</p><p>Steve swiftly shook his head, his warm hand landing on yours, gently stopping your restless fingers. This time, it was butterflies in your stomach erupting with life, the sweet comforting gesture warming your heart. He <em>wanted to</em> be here. He came here for you. He was interested in you.</p><p>And the feeling was mutual. So why was it being so weird then?</p><p>“Hey, it’s okay. I’m glad you reached out. I’m glad that you said yes in the first place,” he admitted, features softening despite the tension in his shoulders never leaving. His brows furrowed as he slowly withdrew his hand – it must have been an automatic reaction then. “I’m not that tired and… and maybe I was little worried that if I asked for a different date, then…”</p><p>He trailed off and your lips parted in surprise, your heart swelling in your chest at what he was implying.</p><p>Did he think you’d back out? Did he think that all the potential obstacles intimidated you too much? That you’d think it wasn’t worth it? That it wouldn’t work out anyway?</p><p>Seeing as you were now, you couldn’t blame him. Despite him being the world’s most charming man, here you were, being… not at all yourself, stressing for no reason.</p><p>It seemed to you that had had chemistry, back there in his office. This date <em>made sense</em>. When you imagined how this could unfold, well, it went a bit differently too. There was considerably less embarrassment going around.</p><p>This was why you preferred writing to speaking. That’s why you liked daydreaming. Because reality was often less than ideal, no script, awkward silences, misunderstandings…</p><p>“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your food arrived.</p><p>You both thanked the waiter politely and you hoped that at least now you’d have a good excuse for the lack of normal conversation.</p><p>“What are you sorry for?”</p><p>You sighed and nibbled on your lower lip, not missing the way his gaze instinctively flickered there, pupils dilating just a fraction – but enough for you to notice. Your heart skipped a pleased beat – but the undeniable physical attract couldn’t be enough.</p><p>“For this,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. His features twisted in disappointment and something that looked a lot like regret flashed in his eyes. “I want to be here, Steve. I really do. I don’t know what’s wrong with me-“</p><p>“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you,” he was quick to oppose and you couldn’t help it as a wry chuckle escaped you.</p><p>“Well, there’s certainly nothing wrong with <em>you. </em>And still, there’s this…”</p><p>“…tension?”</p><p>You <em>wished.</em></p><p>“Sort of? But not the fun kind, for sure.”</p><p>He grimaced, but a spark of amusement lit up his blue irises. “Awkward air around us?”</p><p>“Yes!” you exclaimed victoriously as he voiced exactly what you were thinking. Then you quickly lowered your voice, looking around. Luckily, no one stared at you. You realized you leaned closer to him over the table, your heart racing at that, but you didn’t withdraw; it was a lovely opportunity to get even a better look at his perfect face. “But I don’t know why!” <em>You knew why.</em> “I like you, Steve-“</p><p>“I like you too. And I know I already said that, but you look stunning.”</p><p>Your cheeks burned again, but this time, you managed to stutter out a thank you at least. <em>Stunning,</em> <em>Jesus, </em>was he for real?</p><p>“T-thank you. You look incredibly handsome too. Then again you always do—<em>why</em> did I say that.”</p><p>One corner of his lips quirked up.</p><p>“Why thank you, I’m glad you did. The feeling’s mutual, believe me.”</p><p>“Then why does this feel like one of the most awkward dates I’ve ever been to?!” you whisper-yelled, causing him to chuckle, the tips of his ears turning red.</p><p>His hand once again landed on yours, this time deliberately, the gesture warming you in more than one way.</p><p>“Well… I’m nervous. You might be too.” You hummed in agreement. Was that all it was? “But the way you said it, at least it seems to me that it could have been worse, right? More awkward?”</p><p>You felt the corners of your lips rise at the remark, shrugging. He had a point there. And he squeezed your hand a bit and <em>good Lord,</em> it should not be making your heart race so much, but he was touching you and he was being really sweet and his fingers were nice and warm and <em>long</em>-</p><p>“Tell me.”</p><p>You blinked in surprise, realizing you had been staring at your joined hands. You raised your gaze, finding him watching you with a subtle smile.</p><p>“Tell you what?”</p><p>“Tell me about the most awkward date you have ever been to,” he clarified, his thumb caressing your wrist.</p><p>You only hesitated for a beat before you nodded in agreement, god knew why. Perhaps you did need a reminder that this could have gone much more disastrously and it was mostly your traitorous brain telling you that you were messing everything up.</p><p>Plus, Steve deserved whatever he wanted – so far, he was the only reason this date <em>wasn’t</em> as disastrous as it could be.</p><p>“Okay. You ever been to a speed dating event, Steve? Because I have.”</p><p>“Oh, this is ought to be good,” he noted with another squeeze to your hand, before he released you. <em>Shame.</em> He sipped at his wine and dug into his pasta. “I’m all ears.”</p><p><em>This is ought to be good, </em>Steve said. Well, maybe. You certainly hadn’t thought so at the time.</p><p>Explaining to Steve that as you had been under duress from no other than Penny, you both went to the event which promised you meeting ten dashing men in only an hour. You’d get five minutes with each, as anonymous as you’d wished to be, receiving a folder with nothing but a table with the first names of the men and a yes and no option and a line for your own notes about them.</p><p>You weren’t sure what to think of it – but after three epically failed Tinder attempts, you agreed to try. If nothing else, you’d gain a new experience.</p><p>And an experience had it been. You even lasted a month with one of the guys, but you didn’t tell Steve <em>that</em>. It wasn’t important.</p><p>André was.</p><p>André Whatever-was-his-last-name – because that was how it worked, no last names – definitely <em>believed</em> he was important. With the guys moving around the tables from one woman to another, spending five minutes with each, you could already hear <em>André</em> closing to your station from two tables over.</p><p>He was hard to tune out, courtesy of the colour of his voice, extremely unpleasant to your ears, and him never letting the woman he faced <em>talk.</em> Always interrupting. Always turning the conversation around so it would be about him.</p><p>
  <em>Asshole.</em>
</p><p>You liked to think you weren’t quick to judge people, but André was making you cringe before you were even introduced. And then you actually were.</p><p>A minute into his monologue to you, you felt like you were being tortured.</p><p>And then the waitress managed to stumble and spill a glass of white wine – partly over your table, but mostly on the floor. At least she caught the glass and you had but a tiny spot on your dress.</p><p>“She was apologizing so profusely and I wasn’t thinking, okay. I went for the napkins few tables over to help and— I didn’t realize I put the open folder down for everyone to see,” you explained, feeling like face-palming when you remembered the night.</p><p>Steve watched you in anticipation, a small smirk and a knowing look on his face as he guessed you had already circled ‘no’ for André at the time.</p><p>Oh, you wished it were that simple. You felt your cheeks burn hot as you continued.</p><p>“André read it, of course. Obviously, he already got a hard ‘no’ from me, but… I might have written a tiny note for myself as to why,” you admitted and Steve’s eyebrow rose minutely, his curiosity piqued even more.</p><p>You took a deep breath.</p><p>“I wasn’t exactly kind to him. It was something along the lines of <em>self-important asshole who probably compensated for something.” </em>Steve huffed in amusement. But oh, if he only knew..<em>. </em>you sighed and continued. “And <em>If Draco Malfoy and Gilderoy Lockhart had a love child, this would be him.”</em></p><p>No sound came from your companion this time and your teeth anxiously sank into our lower lip, your pulse wavering. What was Steve thinking? Did he think you had been rude? Mean even? Nerdy? All of the above?</p><p>He stared at you for full three seconds, clearly rendered speechless by your harsh judgement.</p><p>And then he burst out laughing.</p><p>Suffocating weight fell from your shoulders and you silently joined him as you explained yourself.</p><p>“I was in my Harry Potter phase! And in my defence, I think it was actually pretty accurate...”</p><p>“Oh, I don’t doubt that sweetheart,” Steve chuckled lightly before laughing some more, irises twinkling with amusement and something… <em>softer.</em></p><p>You shuddered upon hearing the endearment spill unwittingly from his lips, upon seeing the emotion on his face.  And maybe you were a little proud of yourself for making him laugh and lose the tension in his shoulders completely.</p><p>“It was one of the longest <em>and</em> most awkward three minutes of my life, the silence that followed,” you huffed, massaging your forehead. “He did <em>not</em> appreciate the comparison.”</p><p>“I bet,” Steve cackled, taking another bite of his meal, smile playing in the corner of his lips as he swallowed and continued. “But you’ve got to give it to him, he knew his Harry Potter characters.”</p><p>“Ha! My thoughts exactly. But that’s a little bit of weak base for dating, I think, especially since I kinda already hated him.”</p><p>“Oh, you did? I didn’t catch that,” Steve joked lightly, causing you to smile despite the horrid memory.</p><p>And funnily enough, telling him and remembering it… it did make you feel better and more at ease with him.</p><p>“Ha ha ha, laugh it up, <em>Professor.</em> Your turn.”</p><p>“I’m sorry?” he said, clearly puzzled. It didn’t escape your notice as his voice faltered, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the addressing.</p><p><em>Oh, so that’ s still a thing.</em> You couldn’t but smirk a bit at that.</p><p>“An awkward date. You have to share now, it’s only fair,” you shrugged, only for a terrible realization to dawn on you. “Please tell me there <em>is </em>at least one awkward date story, Steve. Tell me this isn’t really your worst date ever.”</p><p>He shook his head with a soft chuckle.</p><p>“Oh, there’s plenty. I’m just trying to think about one that won’t scare you away from me. I’d hate that.”</p><p>One corner of his lips raised, he looked you up and down, lingering on your lips for a bit before meeting your gaze, something you could only hope was fondness and wanton in his eyes. Your breath hitched, heat pooling in your abdomen at the thorough onceover despite the gentle tone of his voice.</p><p>Fuck how could he make you feel hot and soft at the same time.</p><p>Unable to stand the intensity of his stare, you lowered your gaze and gulped, your stomach making an excited slip. He <em>did</em> want you. You had been being silly, letting your nerves get the better of you.</p><p>Clearing your throat, you willed yourself to look up, finding him still watching closely – and perhaps, there was a hint of a red to his cheeks, the tip of his ears burning as if despite the blatant flirting, he was unsure of himself too, because he didn’t want to mess up with you either.</p><p>You found it absolutely endearing and your heart swelled. The way you got to see there was more to him than his professor side and his dashing looks… you felt incredibly lucky. The more you got to interact with him, the more it wasn’t just your sinful thoughts belonging to him – he was quickly working on stealing your heart as well.</p><p>Plucking up your courage, you were the one to reach out this time, carefully sweeping your thumb over the back of his hand, smiling.</p><p>“I’m not scared off all that easily, Steve.”</p><p>He mirrored your genuine smile, a glint of something you couldn’t read lighting up his eyes.</p><p>“That’s good to know,” he said lowly and sighed, narrowing his eyes as if he was assessing you again. “Alright, here goes…”</p><p>⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰</p><p>You actually managed to get one more awkward date story from Steve, because frankly, his experiences were <em>hilarious.</em> And surprise <em>surprise,</em> he was a great narrator. Plus, while he talked, you could ogle him shamelessly without fear of looking strange.</p><p>But you guessed that since you were on a date, you <em>could</em> ogle him anyway. He didn’t seem to mind; in fact, whenever he got the opportunity, he reciprocated it. It finally <em>did</em> feel like a date, the air growing thicker as you gradually shifted closer and closer, the light touches prolonging, feet meeting under the table without parting as soon as they made contact.</p><p>Your belly kept warming up with each smile and laugh, with every second of the intense eye contact, with every flicker of his gaze to your lips and vice versa. Sharing a dessert was a terrible idea, because you wanted kiss the crumbs sticking on his lips away. You teased each other, you complimented each other – with Steve absolutely winning the undeclared contest – and you realized that despite sharing your most embarrassing dates with each other at the beginning, this was the absolute best you had ever been to.</p><p>And you didn’t want it to end.</p><p>The light sweater you had brought with you did nothing to shield you from the surprisingly lukewarm wind. As you wandered the streets, Steve finally heard out one of your first thoughts you had had when meeting him today – he shrugged off his suit jacket.</p><p>Which… <em>yum.</em> The seams of his shirt were crying for help and you could only think fo one way of helping them – taking his shirt off too. But alas, Steve didn’t continue the striptease, probably because you were on the street. Instead, he did the most wholesome thing and held out the jacket for you to slip into.</p><p>You only hesitated a moment, teeth sinking into your lower lip. How could you say no to that?</p><p>“That’s awfully cliché and really sweet at the same time,” you muttered, causing him to shrug, one corner of his lips raised in a smirk as he helped you put it on, forefinger most definitely <em>deliberately </em>caressing the side of your throat before withdrawing.</p><p>A shudder ran down your spine, electrifying feeling going straight to your core. The whiff of whatever cologne he was wearing enveloped you, clouding your senses. Goddammit he smelled <em>so good.</em></p><p>“Maybe I just want to see you in my clothes,” he hummed, the suggestive remark knocking the breath straight out of your lungs.</p><p>Stepping to your side from behind your back, you caught a glimpse of his expression – a little bit smug, a little bit panicked as it probably registered with him just how <em>much</em> suggestive it was, perhaps crossing a line.</p><p>It was absolutely <em>not</em> crossing the line, because the thought of wearing his clothes, preferably grabbing it because you couldn’t find yours after you threw it all around the room as you frantically stripped each other was making your head spin in the best way.</p><p>“Maybe I’d really enjoy wearing your clothes after you rip off mine.”</p><p>Steve’s jaw went slack, a choked noise leaving him and you couldn’t but laugh at his dumbstruck expression. <em>Surprise, professor, you little </em>shit.<em> I can keep up.</em></p><p>“That was… mean,” he said, clearing his throat. Your eyebrows rose, pot calling the kettle back style. “But I see how I deserved that.”</p><p>“Damn right… but that doesn’t mean it’s a lie,” you shrugged, chuckling at the exasperated look he shot you.</p><p><em>‘Man, she’s gonna fuck you up on a whole new level and I’ll be here for it in the front row with a bowl of popcorn,’</em> Barnes’ words to Steve which you weren’t meant to hear echoed in your head, making you grin.</p><p>The teasing was intense, yet you felt comfortable in it. You blamed Steve and his nature – he already felt like a guy to go lengths to make you feel at ease enough; the way he had kept insisting on you choosing whether this was a date or not only proved it. He made it easy to be yourself, making you feel like you <em>could</em>.</p><p>And he made it perfectly clear that he was enjoying seeing you like that, that he appreciated you as you were.</p><p>But the closer you got to the campus, the more the reality was settling in, your laughter fading, butterflies and heat replaced by anxiety. He was still a professor. If you went for it, it wouldn’t always be uncomplicated like this. The awkwardness crept in as your steps grew slower, the inevitable arriving.</p><p>He couldn’t walk you home, to walk you to the dorm, even if the desire to do so radiated from every fibre of his being. He couldn’t do that for the same reason he hadn’t picked you up.</p><p>You came to a stop, feeling like there was this invisible border to a safe, students-free part of the city, the line you couldn’t cross side by side.</p><p>“So, uhm… this is it, huh?” Steve hummed, grim. You appreciated the lame attempt at a smile though and reciprocated, turning to face him.</p><p>“Looks like it.”</p><p>Heavy silence settled over you pair. Your eyes trailed all over him, lingering on his face, noting as he did the same. He was <em>beautiful; </em>you didn’t care you should say that about a man. He <em>was.</em> The light in his eyes dimmed compared to that just a few moments ago, but it was still there, expression soft, almost as soft as his beard looked, causing your fingers to twitch in need to run them over it and pull him in for a kiss.</p><p>Your lips tingled as the idea. You had never kissed a man with a beard and you wanted to know how it felt. The fact it was <em>Steve</em> only sealed the deal and made the need grow exponentially.</p><p>You wanted to kiss him <em>so bad.</em> But here you stood, unable to move, unable to speak. You sighed.</p><p>“Would you-“ “I want to-“</p><p>“Sorry,” you and him said at the same time again, laughing it off quietly, your fingers running through your hair.</p><p>Your stomach clenched when you noticed his eyes following the movement almost wistfully.</p><p>“You go first,” he prompted you gently.</p><p>You didn’t argue – if you learned one thing tonight, it was that Steve was a gentleman and that was so rare these days that you wouldn’t want to discourage him from being that way. Even if you really wanted to know what he was about to say, as soon as possible.</p><p>“I… I just want to say thank you. For the… for the date. I had a good time, so I hope you had too, at least a little,” you offered lamely, feeling blood rushing to your cheeks.</p><p>Like a schoolgirl blushing in front of her professor. <em>Jesus,</em> why were you being like this again.</p><p>Steve didn’t seem to find you as awkward as you felt however, your name slipping from his lips, kind and soft.</p><p>“I had a very good time. You’re amazing.” Your lips parted at the blatant and genuine compliment. His eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, that came out so strong, I didn’t mean to put you in spot like that-“</p><p>Stronger than <em>‘maybe I just want to see you in my clothes?’</em> you asked yourself. No, you didn’t think so. It was just that the playfulness had left at least two blocks back.</p><p>This felt more serious. More intimate.</p><p>“Ditto,” you whispered, gracing him with a shy smile he instantly mirrored. “But hey, I already knew that, so…”</p><p>He chuckled, shaking his head lightly, his smile only growing. When he looked at you again, his eyes were the beautiful warm blue that made you weak in the knees.</p><p>“Would you like to do something like that again?” he queried lowly.</p><p><em>Yes. YES. YES PLEASE. </em>Minus the awkwardness at the beginning and the one a moment ago, preferably.  </p><p>“Yeah. I’d like that,” you agreed simply, taking note of how his face lit up even more.</p><p>How could a man be so indescribably hot and yet adorable enough to tug at your heartstrings?</p><p>“Good. I’m glad.”</p><p>He tugged at your hand unexpectedly, pulling you to your left, his other hand steadying you by gently grasping your forearm.</p><p>Before you could question his actions, a pair of men swaying in a drunken haze passed you, having no care in the world for whom they might crash into.</p><p>“Thanks,” blurted out lowly, sparing a second to shoot their backs a dirty glare.</p><p>But Steve’s hands were still on you, distracting, as you stood face to face, chest to chest, a little too close, a little too far. Your heart sped up in your ribcage, breathing picking up in anticipation. So close…</p><p>But all Steve did was to squeeze your forearm reassuringly, lifting your joined hands to his face.</p><p>Just like the day you agreed to get coffee with him, he kissed your knuckles, only this time it was much firmer. His smile was sweet and utterly irresistible as he kept looking at your face and you felt all the worries about the future melt away once again.</p><p>He was so precious and this felt <em>so right </em>and--- you didn’t want him to kiss your hand.</p><p>Well, you wanted it, but you wanted more too.</p><p>You had been aching to kiss that mouth since you had first set eyes on him, on that inhumanly gorgeous and hot creature. You were on a date, you both had a great time and <em>clearly</em> he was giving you the opportunity to decide how far you wanted to take this, because as much as every little touch of his made to crazy, the displays of affection were positively <em>chaste.</em></p><p>And you wanted to take it very very <em>far.</em></p><p>Your rational brain wouldn’t let you just hop into sac with him today, but <em>fuck,</em> you could do with a kiss. You wanted to feel that perfectly trimmed beard of his and you wanted to taste him.</p><p>Did he?</p><p>You stepped even closer as he let go of your hand, distracting you minutely; due to the sudden proximity, it landed on his chest and <em>Jesus fucking Christ</em> he was firm.</p><p>Your fingers clutched at the white fabric of his shirt as you observed his face, your gaze inevitably flickering to his lips. Glancing up once more to find him still watching you intently, pupils dilated, your breath caught in your throat, heat stirring in your belly.</p><p>Rising to your tiptoes, you gripped the fabric tighter and shortly pressed your lips to his.</p><p>It was a funny feeling – lips hot, soft and slightly chapped, a stark contrast to the beard, less rough than you expected, leaving a tingly sensation behind. It was different; exciting and addicting. Before he could react and before you could think twice, you kissed him again, this time lingering for a few seconds, your eyelids falling shut.</p><p>Your heart fluttered when you felt his lips reluctantly respond just as you withdrew, his grip on your arm tightening. You ran your tongue over your lips to savour the feeling, mouth instinctively curling up in a smile, gaze meeting his.</p><p>Little wrinkles appeared around his eyes as he smiled as well.</p><p>“You okay?”</p><p>You nodded, almost too eagerly, lowering back to your whole feet. Involuntarily, your gaze flickered to his mouth again, wanting more.</p><p>“Uhm… <em>beard,”</em> you piped up unhelpfully, pressing your lips together as soon as the admission left them.</p><p>Steve’s smile widened as he once again grasped your hand, leading it to cup his face – not before he dropped a kiss to your palm.</p><p>You <em>almost</em> let out a very embarrassing whine at the curious sensation, your mind, still enveloped in Steve’s warmth and cologne, wondering how the beard would feel elsewhere.</p><p>Your fingers unwittingly caressed the hair, thumb brushing his lips, unable to resist.</p><p>His Adam’s apple bobbed, lips parting, hot breath fanning over your skin as watched you.</p><p>“Sweetheart,” he breathed out and that was it – you pressed against the soft swollen flesh at the pet name, causing a low grumble echo in Steve’s chest.</p><p>And then his hand slid to your waist, the other sinking into your hair, and he pulled up into a kiss that had nothing to do with how patient he had been before. He was still a gentleman, but it was a close call – he angled your head to his liking, his lips dancing with yours in a sensual dance with just a tease of tongue licking at the seam of your lips, causing you to sigh in bliss, granting him access.</p><p>He hummed appreciatingly, the sound shaking your bones as he held you flat against him, the heat of his body seeping into yours – as if every nerve ending in your body wasn’t on fire already. He breathed you in, consumed you entirely – there were no other words for it.</p><p>There weren’t many words you could think of to begin with, too busy feeling his broad shoulders under your palm, fingers roaming to find the soft hair at his nape, revelling at the taste of him, just a smidge of tongue and you wanted more, your insides twisting in need--- and <em>oh,</em> your back was pressed against a wall now.</p><p>You let out a small startled sound which Steve instantly swallowed – but it was a good wake up call for you both. The motions of his lips slowed, softened, a gentle caress more than anything, his thumb stroking your cheek.</p><p>Breathless, you chased after his mouth when he retreated, earning one small peck and then another. He rested his forehead against yours, nose briefly skimming yours, causing you to smile and meet his gaze.</p><p>“Sorry,” he muttered and you genuinely wanted to slap his arm or something for apologizing for <em>that.</em> Because you knew what you’d be thinking about for the next few hours, days even, hell, probably <em>weeks.</em> “For springing out like that. I just… wanted to do that for a long time.”</p><p>The admission had your heart skip a beat and you couldn’t but lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth – and nope, you weren’t over how it felt, his beard against your lips. You wouldn’t be over it for a long time, you suspected.</p><p>“Me too.”</p><p>“So… we’re doing this again, right?“</p><p>You smirked up at him as he reluctantly released you. “You springing out like that or-“</p><p>“Don’t test me, babygirl,” he nearly growled, causing your eyes going wide as saucers, feeling as if you were sucker punched to your gut – and liked it.</p><p><em>Babygirl.</em> <em>Jesus, </em>he was going to be the death of you.</p><p>“You can spring out like that again too,” you chimed, your voice sounding a bit strangled, because <em>holy shit</em> he just called you that. His gaze flickered all over your face, a shade darker than before. Your underwear was thoroughly ruined with that single look… and the earlier make-out session. “But if we’re talking second dates, I’d definitely do that too.”</p><p>He huffed and shook his head, a chuckle escaping him.</p><p>“You’re a minx…. I think I like it.”</p><p>You grinned at him and then sighed regretfully, reaching to slip off the jacket, which made him frown.</p><p>“You could give it back later.”</p><p>“Don’t tempt me… don’t want to rob you of it--- and there would be questions,” you explained, knowing that even walking around the campus like what would raise rumours of god knew what.</p><p>Like, maybe someone would think some gentleman like Professor Steve Rogers himself lent it to you or something, gee, where would <em>that</em> come from...</p><p>Steve nodded in understanding, accepting the jacket and shrugging it on.</p><p>“Plus, I’m thoroughly warmed up,” you added cheekily, causing him to chuckle incredulously again. With a sigh, he leaned in, cradling your jaw in one large hand and pressed a sweet lingering kiss to your forehead.</p><p>You could <em>melt on spot. </em></p><p>“Goodnight, sweetheart. Let me know when you get home safe?” he asked of you gently, tugging at your heartstrings some more, because of course he did.</p><p>“I will. You too?”</p><p>His smile was soft and sweet as he promised to do so, clearly touched by your care. Well, that made two of you.</p><p>“Goodnight, Steve. Thank you for tonight.”</p><p>“Thank <em>you.”</em></p><p>You breathed in deeply, dropping a last kiss to his cheek and quickly spun on your heels to walk away – because if you wavered a second longer, you might have not left at all.</p><p>Sure, you looked back at him several times, finding him standing where you had left him, his eyes following your receding figure. But you kept walking.</p><p>And once you couldn’t see him anymore, you broke into a fit of giggles, hiding your face in your palms to muffle your delighted squeal.</p><p>You were just coming back to the dorms from the date with <em>Steve Rogers.</em></p><p>And despite the hiccups, it was the best damn thing in the world, leaving you giddy and already craving another date and more. Your cheeks <em>hurt</em> from smiling by the time you made it to the dorms, your heart pounding excitedly the whole time.</p><p>As promised, you let Steve know you made there safe, earning another text with a heart. It only made you squeal again, fingers frantic as you replied – and with a kiss for goodnight so he knew you truly enjoyed your night, ending included.</p><p>What he didn’t know was that maybe, just <em>maybe, </em>the next evening you wrote a tiny story in which you elaborated at what could happen if he ever pushed you against a wall and kissed your breathless ever again.</p><p>And hopefully, he would.</p><p>Soon.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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